Christmas Day at Starbucks

There's something so comforting about a mocha latte on Christmas Day.

I worked at a Starbucks, briefly, a few years ago, and, at the time, endured my brother's screed about the "corporate coffee shop" and the evil monotony and far-reaching greed that lies therein. But, my experience as an employee, as well as the many years I have spent as a patron of Starbucks, has engendered within me a true a appreciation for the loud espresso machines, jovial college students, low playing music (CDs on sale at the front!) and overpriced but uniquely delicious drinks and treats. It's a great hangout for me on a off-kilter Christmas . . . and my Christmas cheer has finally returned. Free wi-fi, comfortable arm chair, cool jazzy Christmas music, yummy stuff to eat & Derek reading quietly while everyone else is very LOUD . . . just like home!!!

In this moment, I want to send all my love to Mashe and my new friends worldwide . . . wishing you a wonderful day and a prosperous and beautiful new year. I'll drink a cup to Elorm Beenie, a wonderful poet and storyteller from Ghana, on the publication of his first book . . . out very soon. Boomshot to Mr. Cross!!! Much love to Ras Chuma, Rosanna Silvestro, and Rasta Reuben . . . my new friends in Jah's love & reggae one-ness. Facebook has been such a great way to meet some wonderful people and continue the work of sharing our love for God in whatever ways we find uplifting. A season of happiness is at hand, and I am hopeful that our world will know peace at last.

My loneliness of yesterday has finally blossomed into an awareness of how I always feel this time of year . . . when I remember the lessons of childhood and smile as every year rings them more and more true. Jesus truly does "love the little children, all the children of the world." Once again, I sing along to the 70's coca-cola advertising jingle, and renew my wish "to see the world at once, all standing hand in hand." I await the "Peace Train" and the "Mother and Child Reunion" promised to us so convincingly by the folk & soul singers. I was too young for Woodstock & the "summer of love" . . . but I joined the revolutionary peace activists in my heart at a very young age & will never let that hope die.

Thank you, Baba, that I found my holiday spirit finally and can remember the truth of what this day really means to me. Forgive me, friends, if I have felt sorry for myself while so many others suffer. Let's keep love, hope, forgiveness, and peace, first and foremost in our hearts . . . now and forever more. And, remember, when you are feeling down, there's nothing better sometimes than a good cup of coffee.

in the beauty of the season of Christ

For so many years, I lived for this time of year as if it were the only thing that mattered in life. Every year, I started Christmas shopping in July . . . saved and scrimped to put as much under the tree as possible . . . plotted and planned surprises for my daughter and other members of my family . . . baked all kinds of cookies and had volumes of food for visitors on Christmas Day. I would exhaust myself in my efforts to make this holiday special and to create memories for my daughter that would last a lifetime.

Today, in the wake of family troubles that have left everyone that I ever loved estranged from me, I am alone on Christmas . . . for the first time that I can remember.

I am using this opportunity to remember Baba and His exhortation to make our spiritual lives more meaningful and less ritualistic. I have been celebrating this holiday in a traditional way for a long time, but it never lost meaning for me. In fact, my favorite part of Christmas has always been that moment on Christmas Eve, when all of the packages are wrapped, and all the food is ready to be reheated in the morning, and everyone but me is in bed, and it's just me and the beautifully lit tree . . . sitting quietly together in prayer. It's the best part of Christmas. Just me and Baba, talking together as usual, and admiring our efforts in the name of people we love . . . needing nothing for ourselves but each other.

The sadness of my isolation this year cannot be denied. I'm troubled that my family rejects me, I am lonely for my daughter, and I am missing the usual hustle and bustle. But, as always, Baba is with me, smiling and patting my head. "Silly them," He says. "We know better, don't we dear?" And, today, I am putting my heart down at His altar . . . right next to my beautifully lit tree . . . and refusing to feel alone on my special day with Baba.

I'm reminded that Jesus was really born in April sometime, and that our Christmas traditions have grown out of Celtic and Anglo-Saxon solstice celebrations, and that holidays everywhere are a mishmash of cultures and traditions. There's nothing so inherently special about December 25th that it can't be looked at, reasonably, as just another day in life. Baba used this kind of thing to break down the egos of so many die-hard "religious types" among his followers . . . keeping most celebrations simple and avoiding any outward show for the sake of an audience. Funny to be an American, among all the Christmas lights and crowds, and to give up my usual display and expense of effort . . . but something I feel called to do this year, as painful as it feels.

Tonight, I will pray for peace in the world and light my candles. In Baba's name, I will rededicate myself to honest living and hope for a good future for all of us. As I gaze into my tree, which has always reminded me of the vast Universe full of twinkling stars, I will remember the beauty of simplicity and grace . . . that a Christmas cookie is really only a sweet, and not the only way to show love. In a time of world change and hardship, it's far more important to deal with life's honest lessons, and to let a hurting family spend some time alone to think about how they should really treat each other, every day.

God bless us, every one. Enjoy the holiday and be blessed. Amen.

Working Hard for the Money in 1965

A WITHDRAWAL INTO WORK Tom and Dorothy Hopkinson Sahavas were projected for the Westerners, but before December [1965] came they were postponed, and continued to be put off year after year as Baba's seclusion was extended. This seclusion was the opposite of retirement. It was not a withdrawal from work but a withdrawal into work. What the true nature of this work might be, even those whose lives were spent in Baba's company knew little. All they gleaned from a rare comment was, first, that it went on unceasingly. "you see me doing all this," Baba told them once during an interlude at Guruprasad in June 1963, "but simultaneously my work continues. It is as breathing is to you — you talk, work, play, eat, sleep etc., but you never stop breathing. It is the same with my work, which continues without a stop whatever else I may appear to be doing." Secondly, they understood that it was directly related to the world situation at any given moment and carried out 'on the inner planes', invisibly and imperceptibly, in the way that Baba worked on the minds of audiences absorbed in some entertainment. Thirdly, they could see for themselves that it involved intense suffering both bodily and mental.   MUCH SILENCE, pp. 128-129 1974 © Meher Baba Spiritual League Ltd.

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ALWAYS AWAKE Bhau Kalchuri After the second accident, Baba used his upstairs bedroom at Meherazad and was carried there each day in an armchair. The night watchman always sat inside Baba's room. This was necessary because Baba would often get leg spasms while he rested, and whenever this occurred, whoever was on duty would sit on the bed in order to massage Baba's feet. One night I was sitting on Baba's bed with one leg dangling over the side while I held and pressed Baba's feet. Baba was snoring loudly. Even though I had experienced Baba's omniscience in Satara in this regard, still the thought pestered me: "Baba is snoring like an ordinary man. How can it be that the Avatar has conscious sleep?" Suddenly Baba restlessly began snapping his fingers. I stood up, and as soon as both feet touched the floor, I saw a poisonous snake — a krait — just inches from my feet! I would surely have been bitten had Baba not drawn my attention there. Baba told me to kill the snake which I managed to do with great difficulty as I had never killed a snake in my life. Baba then asked me, "What type of sleep do I have?" I laughed, and Baba gestured, "Just remember that I can never sleep like an ordinary man. I am always awake. I am always conscious doing my Universal work." WHILE THE WORLD SLEPT, p. 38 1984 © Bhau Kalchuri

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Decreasing Lust

THE EGO BECOMES VERY THIN AND WEAK Meher Baba The body will survive for ninety-five days if one remains only on water. Just as the body feeds on food, so the mind feeds on desires, and indulgence in these desires feeds the mind and the ego. So, by starving the mind of these desires, the ego becomes very thin and weak. In a physical fast, taking only water ... lust is lessened, but anger and hope are increased. During the first three days of a fast, hunger is marked, depression is strong, anger is strengthened and lust is diminished. From the third to the seventh day, there is a fluctuation in feelings: hunger, depression, anger and lust are all lessened, while hope — for everything — is still strong. On the tenth day, the feelings then swing back, and there is increased hunger and anger. This lasts until the fourteenth day. Thus, after the fourteenth day, a fast has no spiritual value. LORD MEHER, 1st ed, Vol. 7 & 8, p. 2757, Bhau Kalchuri 1995 © Avatar Meher Baba Perpetual Public Charitable Trust

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ONLY THAT WHICH WE GIVE IS PERMANENT Meher Baba The meaning of faith is that one is not shaken by anything. Faith is the means whereby anything can be courageously accomplished. Worldly people naturally worry abut their families, but, in reality, everything is one big zero. How long will your connection with your family last? What do you know about your forefathers and, likewise, how long will your family members remember you after you pass away? They will forget everything. No one is going to remember anything or have any connection with you. All these present connections are only temporary; they are not permanent or everlasting. You are now worrying about your family because of some monetary problems. Suppose that everything is all right and you have millions tomorrow. You will all live in comfort then. You will collect jewels and other things. But what about in the hereafter? Nothing is left! When the body drops, everything ends! Everything becomes useless — meaningless! Nothing! So, we Masters see far ahead, because only that which we give is permanent — a lasting connection. We do not pay attention to all these superficial difficulties. You are mine. You have faith in me. I gave you advice and you lost money by carrying it out. If people say that I have used up your money, it is true. But why? How can people be blamed? You are definitely mine, because you have faith in me, and you have held out and stuck fast to my feet despite your own hardships. But how are people to believe this? How could they have such faith? Therefore, if they speak ill about me behind my back, just listen quietly. What truth is in it? LORD MEHER, 1st ed, Vol. 6 & 7, p. 1917, Bhau Kalchuri 1994 © Avatar Meher Baba Perpetual Public Charitable Trust

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on the streets of Philadelphia . . . " the city of brotherly love"

THEY ALL BECAME VERY FRIENDLY Ivy O. Duce Alain Youell related the following story to me: "Once when I went with Don Stevens to visit with Baba in Meherazad, we stayed there a week. Baba had us all playing his game of seven tiles (or else the card game), and Baba always made up his own rules for such games. The one consistent rule was that whoever lost had to rub the ground with his nose. It was rather strange that Baba rubbed my nose to the ground quite a number of times during that week. "The meaning of it only came to me about a year later when the doctor in London decided that they would operate on my nose. I had had a very troublesome infection in that region for a long time and no one had seemed to know what to do for it. The operation was a very difficult one, but it was very successful and I have never had any further trouble with that infection." Of course it is my thought that at the same time when Baba was working on Alain, he was also probably accomplishing much with the game. He always said that he did not play these games just for fun, so in some part of the world there must have been someone or some group winning, or vanquished, when the loser had to pay so humbly for losing. Alain also said that up until then he had never gotten along with his family. In fact, he had left home at the age of fourteen when his mother married a man he did not like. However, his relationships with his mother, his brother and so forth were always very poor. At this time Baba told him that he must now get on with the job of getting along with his family. So on returning from India he went to visit his family and made every effort for harmony and was astonished to find that from then on they all became very friendly. HOW A MASTER WORKS, pp. 715-716 1975 © Sufism Reoriented, Inc.

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for love . . . for now . . . forever

The Nature of Nature

A breeze can lift a cloud
The wind can bend a tree
A wave can bring a thousand shells
     from the bottom of the sea
The ice upon a mountain top
     can carve a million rivers
The sun can warm a field of flowers
Your pain can give me shivers
There is no need to tell you more
     about the way you make me feel
In time, I hope that Nature
     uses Love to help us heal

a poem from Derek

my best friend posted this to his blog on October 6, 2010. he told me it was about me, but i try not to hold on too tightly to that. it would really hurt too much if it were true.

sunshine in rain

i think of you
and i go on.
listen to raindrops
drip down outside.
don't really care
what zip code you're in,
just where you reside,
so long as you're there.
comfort during pain,
pools of laughter
cure a sorrow drought.
i can sometimes feel
sunshine in rain,
love after loss,
always tomorrow
come dreck and dross.
say what you must;
hold onto the real.
pray no sin, no lust.
another day gone.
another day new.

looking for mr. right . . . mr. wrong . . . mr. how now? . . . mr. right now!

Marriage is a funny thing
we make it so impossible to conceive
and yet we continue to believe
in its ultimate transcendence

But, it has nothing to do with a white dress.
i think in lavender, blue and green
and wonder about "forever"
and what it means

The idea is there of "soulmate"
but has anybody ever really mated the soul?

the "soul" is One in nature
the "soul" has no division
the "soul" is One in heart, and mind,
and kind, and vision

Does the God of All — the One and Only
find Himself alone, unloved, and lonely???

Is there more to know
than "the Bible tells me so???"
is it true, perhaps, that You
are "bigger" than Jesus, mr. Who?????

ok, buddies. let it rip!!!!!!

HINTS FOR SPIRITUAL WORKERS Meher Baba For rendering spiritual help you should have a clear understanding of the following four points: 1.   Apparent descent to a lower level It may often be necessary for you to apparently descend to the lower level of those whom you are trying to help. Though your purpose is to raise people to higher levels of consciousness, they might fail to profit by what you say if you do not talk in terms they understand. What you convey to them through your thoughts and feelings should not go over their heads. They are bound to miss the point unless you adapt it to their capacity and experience. However, it is equally important to remember that while doing this, you should not actually lose your own high level of understanding. You will change your approach and technique as they gradually arrive at deeper and deeper understanding, and your apparent descent to the lower level will be only temporary. 2.  Spiritual understanding ensures all-sided progress You must not divide life into departments and then begin to deal with each department separately and exclusively. Departmentalized thinking is often an obstacle to integral vision. Thus if you divide life into politics, education, morality, material advancement, science, art, religion, mysticism, and culture — and then think exclusively of only one of these aspects — the solutions that you bring to life can neither be satisfactory nor final. But if you succeed in awakening spiritual inspiration and understanding, progress in all these spheres of life is bound to follow automatically. You will have to aim at providing, as spiritual workers, a complete and real solution for all the individual and social problems of life. 3.  Spiritual progress consists in the spontaneous growth of understanding from within As spiritual workers, you have also to remember that the spiritual wisdom you desire to convey to others is already latent in them, and that you have only to be instrumental in unveiling that spiritual wisdom. Spiritual progress is not a process of accumulating from without; it is a process of unfoldment from within. A Perfect Master is absolutely necessary for anyone to arrive at Self-knowledge, but the true significance of the help given by the Master consists in the fact that he enables others to come into the full possession of their own latent possibilities. 4.  Some questions are more important than answers You, as spiritual workers, must not lose sight of the real work the Master desires to get done through you. When it is clearly understood that spiritual wisdom is latent in all, you will no longer be anxious to provide others with ready-made answers and solutions. In many cases you will be content to set up for others a new problem or to clarify for others the nature of the problems they face. You may have done your duty if you ask them a question that they would not ask of themselves, when placed in some practical situation. In some cases you will have done your duty if you succeed in putting them in a searching and questioning attitude, so that they themselves begin to understand and tackle their problems along more fruitful and creative lines. To give them a deeper point of view or to suggest to them a fruitful line of thought and action may itself mean much more than thrusting upon them the results of your judgment. The questions that you may help them formulate for themselves should neither be merely theoretical nor unnecessarily complicated. If they are simple, straight, and fundamental, these questions will answer themselves; and people will find their own solutions. You will have rendered indispensable and valuable service to them because, without your tactful intervention, they would not have arrived at the solution of their multifarious problems from the spiritual point of view. DISCOURSES, 7th ed, pp. 347-348 1987 © Avatar Meher Baba Perpetual Public Charitable Trust

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Love Poem

time goes pole pole
and slowly, slowly
my heart grows

if you were to say
"i love you"
in a silly way —

too easily
too confidently
too brash

the pole pole mole
would never
open her eyes to you

but a blind eye
can see everything
and pole pole —

i love you, too.

The Turning of the Key

THE YOUNG SUFI'S LOVE FOR GOD Bill Le Page Three young Sufis were condemned to death by the Sultan for heresy. One stepped forward, asking to be beheaded first. The Sultan was amazed, and asked why a man in the prime of life should seek death so eagerly. The Sufi replied that every moment in life is precious because it can be spent in remembrance of the Beloved, and he wished to give his brothers the extra moments of life by dying first. "One moment of this world is better than a thousand years of the next world, because this is the place of service and that is the place of proximity, and proximity is gained by service." The Sultan was so impressed by the young Sufi's love for God that he pardoned all three and said, "Ask a boon." They replied, "The only boon we ask of you is that you should forget us, and neither make us your favourites nor banish us from your court, for your favour and displeasure are alike to us." The Sultan wept, and dismissed them with honour. THE TURNING OF THE KEY, pp. 153-154 1993 © Bill Le Page

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Blasphemy

Yesterday, Derek told me that it was "unscientific" to talk to (and hear from) God. He didn't really say it in exactly those words, but this has been a longstanding discussion I have been having with this dear one, for a long time, and I am well aware of his opinion on this subject. My darling Derek, for all his resemblance to Jesus (he did, after all, rise from the dead!!!) is a hard one to sell anything "spiritual" to. He is a dyed-in-the-wool skeptic and scientist, and he wants *proof.*

I guess all the chattering I do, out loud, to people I am thinking of and entities who pester me, is not enough scientific proof for most people that I actually experience this stuff. Any bizarre person on the street can do that, and it really has no meaning, overall . . . right? The people who do this stuff end up homeless and in mental hospitals, mostly (yup, I've been there on both counts) and all that scientific stuff we do to them in those hospitals always seems to ***cure*** them . . . right??? Because, science is so sure that *they* are the crazy ones, right????

What I have had the hardest time convincing Derek of is that I AM a scientist . . . to the core!!! I call myself a "science experiment" all the time. I've tried all kinds of medication to "cure" myself of this mental illness, and I have experimented with all kinds of adjustments so that I can have a normal life. I've tried long term psychotherapy (years of it!!), ancient healing techniques from the East, the "location" cure (if you are unhappy in one spot . . . move!), having relationships, leaving relationships, staying close to family members, rejecting family members . . . I've tried everything I can think of, and I have done it very scientifically. And, today, I feel a lot better!!! I feel GOOD, even. Doesn't that appear to be sound medicine and a methodical approach to healing? Experimental method. hmm.

All I can say is, I believe in God *and* dinosaurs. I believe in God *and* evolution. I believe in God *and* DNA. I believe in God *and* physics, mathematics, chemistry, biology and all the wonderful achievements of science. To me, God is the *ultimate* scientist . . . and I really love Him for it.

The Essence of Marriage

Last night, a friend asked me what marriage meant to me. My response was quick . . . but honest. I said "aisle, dress, kid (before it gets too late.) you know, the real deal."

But, honestly, I had none of that with Derek, and I still consider it a truly bona fide marriage. We eschewed all convention and exchanged gold rings in a jewelry store in front of the clerk. We told people we had been married by a "J.P.," which to most people means "Justice of the Peace" or "civil marriage." We took it to mean "jewelry person," but still considered the whole thing very official. Derek took his vow according to Ralph Waldo Emerson, and I took a silent vow ("things that are real are given and received in silence" — Meher Baba.) And, we called ourselves married, and we meant it. Today, I consider him my "ex-husband" . . . but we never had to go through a messy, state orchestrated divorce & thank God for that.

It was as real as real could be . . . and much happier than my first marriage (which, by the way, included "aisle, dress, and kid.") So, when my response was so quick last night, I really wondered about myself. How do I *really* feel about marriage??? What does it consist of??? What makes it "the real deal," after all????

All I can say is that with the new man in my life, I really want the whole nine yards — in a way that I have never wanted it before. This time around, I feel a deeper love than I have ever been capable of, and a deeper commitment to "happily ever after," if it is at all possible. "The real deal" today, means that I never want to part ways, over ANYTHING . . . I want this one to work, and I want both of us to work it REALLY well, so that we are together in old age and that all of my fears about relationships are finally healed up.

My final analysis on this subject is this:

If you are ready for that in your 20s . . . GREAT. If you can't manage it until your 40s . . . congratulations for finally making it there. If you want to eschew convention & have a jewelry clerk perform your ceremony, GO FOR IT. If you are a same-sex couple, or not sure about whether kids are in your future . . . SO WHAT??? Shoot for "happily ever after" and forget about the other stuff. After much thought, I must say, that THAT seems like "the real deal" to me.

Spiritual Perfection does not mean "no suffering." Just the opposite, in fact.

A yogi can do all the jugglery by using psychic powers. He can abstain from food, go without sleep, leave the body at will, or stop his breathing, et cetera. Spiritually considered, a moral, good man who works in the world selflessly for others is much better and stands higher than many yogis with all their occult powers of performing miracles, which are nothing but jugglery without any spiritual importance at all; because whatever a yogi does is for his own individual self, and hence he is not selfless. He overcomes one illusion by creating another, which differs fundamentally from the teaching and work of a Sadguru or Qutub.

Lord Meher, 1st. ed., Bhau Kalchuri, Vol. 7, p. 2232.

It is foolish to think that a person who has reached the highest goal has done so at no personal cost. It is a very childish viewpoint to think that "perfection" is granted at birth or developed effortlessly. Intense suffering is required for the individual, and works along the laws of karma. Evil doing of all kind must be worked out flawlessly in the person undergoing the "unveiling." This person does evil, thinks evil, acts evil and portrays all of the evils within himself or herself along the way. Do not think that this growth is easy, by any means. It is TORTURE. But, it is worth EVERYTHING it takes to be a person of honor and dignity . . . afraid of nothing and nobody . . . in the end.

I love you

LOVE ONLY GIVES AND GOES ON GIVING Meher Baba When love draws you to Me, don't ask for anything. When you are in My presence, be a silent recipient. Ask and you lose. Love has no questions and hence expects no answers. Love itself is the answer to all questions. The more you love Me, the less you question. Love is eager to respond to the slightest wish of the Beloved, and there is no scope for why and wherefore while obeying the Master. When in my sahavas (company) be attentive and receptive to what I may say, but do not question. Pampering the intellect brings forth innumerable questions. All these questions can be answered but that is not spiritually indispensable. Mere intellectual explanations will not take you out of the muddle of your mind but will puzzle you all the more. Try to grasp what I have already said. To demand anything from the beloved is an insult to love. Love only gives and goes on giving till the will of the Beloved alone manifests through the lover. PRACTICAL SPIRITUALITY, p. 140, John A. Grant 1985 © Avatar Meher Baba Perpetual Public Charitable Trust

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Losing Friends

There's an interesting thing you can do if you are a member of Facebook. To be in the Facebook network, you collect links to different people by making them your friends. All it takes is a "friend request" and a "confirmation" from the person on the other end. It's really fun, and I have started going around finding new people to make my friends. It was a global search, really, and brought me to a really cool bunch of people from Kenya.

Well, lo and behold, hidden away among this crowd of people was my jewel. He's a wonderful man, and he was so sweet to me. I ignored him for a really long time while he was very painfully searching for a new relationship. But, all of a sudden, he asked *me* if *I* was his "true love!!" I couldn't believe it. It was the coolest thing I had ever seen. I am all the way around the world, and I was just having fun learning about some new friends. I never expected a man from that culture to be interested in me.

In America, we get all kinds of warnings about "meeting foreigners on line." Inevitably, they warn us, these people only want "our money" or they want to "come here" because America is so great . . . not because they really love you. In fact, I told a few people about this new guy who was interested in me, and I got the same DIRE warnings about "foreigners."

But, he didn't WANT to come here. He kept asking *me* to go *there!* And, I was really thinking about it. America hasn't been that great to me, in fact, she has hurt me terribly with her judgments and hypocrisy. I don't play the American game very well, at all. So, finally, after quite a while of this wrangle, I told him YES. I want to come to Kenya.

oops. Big mistake, ladies. Don't show that you are too interested in your guy. They really only like the "chase." Once they have you, all the fun is over for them. Now, they have the right to pick apart all your faults and drive you away. Well, he did THAT too, and now he has done something really mean in Facebook world. He un-friended me.

It's a shame, really. It would have been fun. I hope Mashe thinks a lot about how he REALLY feels about this. Because, I really like him a lot, and I would totally re-friend him if he asked. Any time.

What do you think of this one, Mashe???????????

BLISS CANNOT BE DESCRIBED Meher Baba Bliss is something quite distinct from happiness and misery. Happiness and misery are gained through experiences of the mind. Bliss is something totally different; after the death of the mind, what the soul gains through God is bliss. Happiness and misery are due to the mind, while bliss exists on account of the soul. Bliss cannot be described. It cannot be grasped. It is to be experienced. LORD MEHER, 1st ed, Vol. 5, p. 1190, Bhau Kalchuri 1986 © Avatar Meher Baba Perpetual Public Charitable Trust

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What do you think of this one, Mashe?????

EVERYONE STANDING BY WAS VERY SURPRISED Mehera J. Irani In November 1928 Baba decided to return to Meherabad. It had been a very wet November, and we were all tired of the dampness. Toka is on the confluence of three rivers, and when leaving Baba crossed one of them by boat to get to His car on the opposite bank. Baba's driver, trying to make it easy for Baba to get into the car, brought it too close to the river bank, and the car got bogged there in a wet, sandy dip. The driver tried to drive it out, but it was too firmly bogged. Baba then called for some bullocks, and the villagers quickly brought six pairs of them. They harnessed the bullocks up to the car, and the villages shouted at the bullocks to move. The six pairs of bullocks pulled and strained, but the car did not budge. Again and again they tried, but still the car would not move. It was stuck in the wet sand. Baba said, "Wait, let the bullocks loose," and He called to Patel, the headman of Arangaon, who loved Baba (he had given Baba a bucket and pail to draw water from the well at Meherabad in 1923) and who had come to Toka with his two bullocks. "Bring your two bullocks and harness them up." Everyone looked at each other wondering how one pair of bullocks could pull the car out when six pairs had failed, but Patel brought his bulls and harnessed them to the car. Baba went up to them, and He gave them a good, hard pat on their rumps with His palm, as if urging them, "Come on, come on, do your best." As they started to pull, very gradually and very slowly the car came out of the wet sand. Everyone standing by was very surprised. Here were two bullocks doing what twelve had not been able to do, and then they realised that it was Baba who given the bullocks the strength to pull the car out. Baba kept these two bullocks when they were brought back to Meherabad, and from that time He did not let them work very hard. When they died Baba did not allow them to be treated like other bullocks. They were buried with great honour in a place selected by Baba. MEHERA, pp. 98-99 1989 © Avatar Meher Baba Perpetual Public Charitable Trust

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Journal Entries, March 2007

3/20/07

Who will do the work?

I see her with Him, existing in eternity,
Where there is no work.
There are no gifts.
There is nothing to do or be.
But, she is me, and I am here in the Now.
Do I work? Am I just Being?
Is there anything for me to do?
For the first time, I feel free to just live in the moment.
No more race to Run.
Baba Ran at a standstill.


3/24/07

In the Now

This morning I left Bill's house and went home to take Sheila's call and do laundry. This afternoon I cried because I won't get married and have a child. In the Now, I remind myself that I am complete — just the way I am. I am at One with Baba in Eternity, and I need nothing else.

The Awakener

GIFT OF GRACE Mary Backett We first met Baba at Kitty Davy's home in London (April, 1932). He was seated in a small room at the top of the house, surrounded by some close devotees. They did not hear me enter, but Baba sprang up with the agility, power and grace that characterize all his movements and came quickly forward. He then signed me to sit beside him — and took my hand with that gentle touch we know so well. Immediately I felt a great upliftment of consciousness, such as I had never experienced with anyone before. I had been searching and reading deeply for many years and knew that now I had found the Master and that the long search was over. He gave me more, far more, in the space of three minutes than I had gained in thirty years of earnest seeking or through others, because I experienced the tangible, definite gift of Grace and Divine Love that he bestowed, whereas others could only talk about it. I knew who Baba is. It was the great event of my life to meet him. It was at Mabel and Margaret's flat a short time later that I met Baba for the second time, and Baba on this evening, to my unspeakable joy, relief and surprise, definitely took us (Will and I) under his own guidance. It is difficult to realize that there was a time when he was not consciously in our life. Some of the most wonderful experiences we have had have been in watching Baba's ways of helping those who come to him for help. Such diverse people with such diverse troubles and needs — and to each he gives with surety and certainty, out of his Divine Wisdom and Love, what is needed. To see his life of Love and Divine Perfection is the greatest assurance and strength and to watch the change of character in oneself and in others is the surest proof of his work. From Spain Baba sent me a small stone and a sprig of herb, and as I held the stone I was conscious of the gift of Grace sent with it, bathing one in its consciousness. The same conscious feeling comes with every letter Baba sends and is spoken of by numbers of those who received letters from him. THE AWAKENER MAGAZINE, Vol. 9, No. 3, pp. 5-6, ed Filis Frederick

At the Risk of Sounding Foolish and Romantic

Ok, so I said I was looking "to the end" and pulling away from relationships.

But, really???

If you've looked through the tabs on this site, you will see that I have begun to publish my novel. Within the pages of this work is an epic poem, which really *begins* and *ends* as a truly romantic love story.

If he's reading, my Kenyan friend may find something interesting in Verse Five of The Song of Baba Ran.

                                               5. Michael
                                                                                           26
In her sleeping dreaming
Her dreaming full of sleep
Baba Ran unconscious
Wild company does keep.
Michael is her sergeant,
Uncompromising lord.
The warrior is training
For eventual release.
The bloodthirsty Angel
A death sword in his hand
Keeps Baba Ran in boot camp
His love a secret stored.
No time to waste in loving
Her heart as hard as stone,
Baba Ran prepares for battle
And victory's reward.
                                                                                           27
It is an epic battle,
The evil and the good.
In every rung of heaven
The battlefield is laid.
There can be no weaklings
In the terror game.
A soldier is a killer
No matter what her name.
Call her Baba Ran,
Call her June the meek,
The woman in the armor
Is destined to succeed.
Unconscious of the fighting
June blindly lives her life.
Unconscious of the Earthly
Baba Ran prepares to fight.
                                                                                           28
The stunning Angel Michael,
A handsome, growling star,
Watches Baba Ran and June
Loving from afar.
The angels all assembled
Listen silently to him
As he barks out orders
And hands out pints of gin.
This is a manly army
And angels all are men
As usual the girl child
Gets disrespect again.
But Baba Ran is different
From June the crying girl.
Her bravery is rocklike,
Her battle armor thin.
                                                                                           29
No blows dealt out defeat her
No tripping as she runs
In hurdles she outjumps them
Maneuvers just for fun
She doesn't need a rifle
Her weapons are her eyes
With bolts of lightning shocking
And arson fingers fire
Incinerate the enemy
And disappear in smoke
A grip so tight the victim
Has no time left to choke
Excelling so in war
She doesn't need to practice
But Michael keeps the pressure on
Wanting her Perfection.
                                                                                           30
The years of life fly by
For June and Baba Ran,
In dreaming meet each other
And then forget again.
Baba Ran unloving
And June who sadly sits.
Both waiting, and still waiting
For God's untimely call.
In the meantime learning
A little of the other
A glimpse in dreams or nightmares
A sister who will help.
"Baba Ran will teach me"
June dreaming oft will quote
"June will love me healthy"
Lonely Baba Ran does hope.
                                                                                           31
And always there is Michael,
June's childhood Angel friend,
And Baba Ran's commander.
To make her become One
God has given Michael
As a holy charge
This woman-child divided
A lover in his arms.
The feeling she engenders
Brings him close to tears.
He watches while she suffers
And grows throughout the years.
He cannot tell his secret
Until she has become
The unified Deliverer
Prophesied in song.
                                                                                           32
In dreaming June can feel him
A tender, loving gaze
A gentle lilting whisper
A manly touching graze.
Michael is invisible,
But June can plainly see
True Love is waiting for her.
Somewhere her lover holds
Her prayers and all the answers.
A man to change her life.
In every face she searches,
Her loving brings her strife.
Human love is lacking
An Angel's righteous heart.
For Michael she is pining
The Angel in the dark.

Endings

For the millionth time, it seems, I have embraced an "ending." Again.

I have been preparing for the ultimate "ending" . . . for a long time . . . and anybody who knows me well (and has any clue about my spiritual path and my studies) knows what I'm talking about. Meher Baba described his Manifestation in many ways, and referred to this period in history as Kaliyuga . . . and Baba people have been pondering the meaning of these terms (or really should have been) since he began discussing them nearly a century ago. All of this, after a lifetime of hearing my Christian friends prepare for "Armageddon" or "Rapture" or "The Second Coming of Christ" . . . the Y2K scare, the 911 scare, the Muslim "jihad," and on and on and on about "the end."

The END of what??? The end of TIME?? The end of the WORLD?? or simply the END of pain and suffering??

In minute ways, all my life, I have approached my goals as if they were indeed the "end" of my life. I have said to myself, so many times, things like "Ok, God. I intend to graduate from college in 4 years. If I do that, I will be able to die happy." And, I did it. And, when I did, I told God "I am happy now," and I prepared to die. But, after waiting for a while to see what would happen, I never actually died. So, I had to come up with a new goal or two along the way. One of those goals was to get a good job at a very prestigious university here in the Boston area . . . which I did, after a quite strenuous effort. But, upon reaching that goal, again I said "Ok! I'm happy. I can die, now." Again, no death. Time for a new goal.

I won't get into how painful life became after a while, and how for so long I was actually begging for death, and how even happiness no longer mattered . . . only death. So, truly, the worry over Armageddon and all that "end of the world" stuff really never got to me so much. My world ended for me on a daily basis — every time I woke up in the morning — for *years.*

Finally, though, there seemed to be some intriguing aspects to actually staying alive. Of course, there was always my daughter and the commitment I had to being as good a mother as I could, despite my history of depression. So, happiness in motherhood was always there and always a saving grace. And after my divorce, there were several long term relationships that offered some relief and glimpses into possible happiness. But, what I found out about relationships with the men in my life was that the only way to survive them with any happiness intact was to actually *end* them as soon as possible.

The relationships I have been through, and have ended peacefully, seem to have finally prepared me somehow to live freely *without* a relationship at all. Despite all the drive I had to "be in love" or "get married" . . . it was the freeing myself of these wishes, not the indulgence in them, that actually brought the peace and relief. At a time in my life where one of these temptations seems to have started up again,  I am again shedding myself of this age-old and somewhat crusty "need" and searching for an ending before there is even a beginning. It is the only way I am able to face Kaliyuga on my own . . . my own personal Armageddon . . . my interior Jihad . . . the shedding of the low desires in search of something higher and more meaningful. I pray that it, eventually, allows me to *actually* die happy.

Peace, friends. Shalom.

Baba Ran

Baba Ran

Now is the time for leaving
When the trees are red
In the future's grieving
Selfishness is dead

Too many souls are sleeping
Now that Maya rules
Forlorn and desperate weeping
In ever deepening pools

The coming of hope's winning
In this terrible game
Keeps the righteous grinning
Wondering at her name

She is the starlight shining
She is the blazing sun
She is the lover pining
She the victorious one

Praise her gentle loving
Praise her constant care
Her essence overhovering
Earth's crying child laid bare

More Poetry

The Tree

The tree is the hiding place
for nuts in winter.
Are they playing or fighting,
the ones who can climb it?
A wild eye, chattering teeth,
heart fluttering with the breath,
They race around the trunk
endlessly protecting what they think
is theirs.
The tree is unmoved by
the grey, furry game.
It shelters the nuts,
the squirrels,
the grass,
as if they all were one.



The Nurses

I have seen these women before
in a vague dream.
They are healers.
Her skin is bad,
and I am grateful
for all she has done
helping others.
I wonder how
a woman in a pink shirt
can be so blessed
with clear skin
and helping hands.



The Braid

My hair is too thin
to be this long.
I must wear it
in a twist
upon my head.
Will they cut my braid
when I die?



A Fat Girl

I eat constantly
and drink deep.
I love chocolate
and avocados,
but I am full.



One

One in all things
and yet apart.
The nameless existence
Speaks.



Today

When will I be full?
Today.
When will I have peace?
Today.
What is the answer?
Today.
Where are You?
Today.



The Blood

My suffering is bliss,
And I stab myself.
The blood is painless.
The wound does not burn.
Yet I am here
writing with this razor.



Candy

I am gaining weight.
Always the candy on my tongue
grows heavier and sweeter.
I drink it in,
and spill it from my lips.
It cannot quench the thirst
of the one who sips it.
But, the one who soaks in it
will finally taste it.



The Mirage

My heart is restless and I want to run
forward into the mirage.
The breath is hard to catch,
The limbs are heavy,
The guts are laden and bloated,
This garment no longer hides the
    nakedness,
And my restlessness is only the
    shadow of nothing.

Forever and Today

In a Maze of Darkness

wandering aimlessly
I find myself everywhere
I do not ask why
the man in the hat limps
I ask why
she smiles at him
and not at me
If they see me
from the corners of their eyes
I will smile
They do not look my way
I smile anyway

On Safari

In this latitude, we are quite insulated from the concerns over tiger attacks. I find this to be a very fortunate thing, having had quite a grave fear of this for some reason growing up. It must be my sensitivity to the possibility that I lived in India during my last lifetime, in a vulnerable period where the land was wild and untamed. I can feel the beauty of that land so sincerely, so much so that I actually wish for a dung floor in my home sometimes. So strange, to be an American, with so much at my fingertips, and to wish for something so earthy. By the way, in no way does a dung floor resemble "dirt" to me, a la my last post regarding the scummy stuff at the bottom of a lake. A dung floor smells of grass and heather. It is cool and easy to sweep. It will keep the moisture in during a very hot season. I know all of this, without ever stepping foot on one, and never having discussed it with anybody. I have no fear of a dung floor . . . only tigers.

Tigers on the prowl must be very sure that they are willing to do battle with my fear of them. It is such a chilling fear that it can squeeze the love out of me completely. A tiger must have drained me of blood at one point, because in the face of them I become bloodless, indeed. I am willing to face one, as I always do, but I will have my guard up. Be careful, tiger. Be gentle and warned. I love to face my fear of you, I love to overcome, and I do love you dearly. You are majestic and beautiful, and I long for the day that you will rest your snarly toothed head on my lap in surrender. I would love to stroke your face and gaze into your eyes, unadorned by sunglasses. But, those eyes hold a terror and a longing that entrances. Be ready for my Arabian daggers and gently lift the veils. I come to you via Allah and Baba and the forty thieves. Krishna was a happy man, but was too entranced by his flute to protect me from the tigers. It will be a much better day when we become brave in this land, together.

Blessed be.

Silence is Golden

I WONDER WHICH IS BETTER Meher Baba Sometimes I feel, why explain anything? Just come, sit down, you all here. Be quiet, and be in company with Baba. Sometimes I feel like explaining things. I wonder which is better. What shall we do? Shall we go on explaining things, or shall we be quiet? MUCH SILENCE, p. 109, Tom and Dorothy Hopkinson 1974 © Meher Baba Spiritual League, Ltd.

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Loving Mother Earth

So, anybody who knows me well will tell you that I really don't like dirt.

I don't like to dig in it, or play in it, or plant in it. I don't like it in my house or on *me*. I tolerate it when I'm too lazy to clean my kitchen, but it is a thorn in my side the whole time. The whole "dirt" issue extends to sand, actually, and I mostly prefer to sit very still on dry parts of the beach rather than get wet so that the sand clings too much. Technically, it's not "dirt," I know, but I have issues . . . I admit it. As a young child, I lived in a muggy Pennsylvania suburb and was a member at a community pool club. We had lovely, blue, chlorinated water to swim in every summer. At 4 years old, I visited relatives in Maine, and was horrified to see that they swam in a lake . . . that had dirt at the bottom of it. I was teased relentlessly for the tears, but, I don't care anymore. I'm allowed to have my freaky stuff, and I'm ok with it.

So, it is very interesting to me that part of my new plan for the future includes a volunteer effort at a farm.

I've already explained to the organizer of this effort that I am not a "nature girl" and that I don't hoe. I have offered to run the store, which will raise money by selling the produce and "products" from this farm . . . and which is so much more in line with my skills. There's also lots of writing to do . . . grants, ads, marketing, website development . . . so, really, I'll be busy enough.

Somehow, though, I feel that if I *don't* participate in the actual growing of things, if I stay away from the dirt altogether, I will really be missing the point of working on a farm.

I have known for a long time that some kind of "back to nature" scheme was going to be part of my future. I have had the visions of it . . . (blame the Voice if it doesn't come to pass.) I have regularly reassured myself that I will not be left in the lurch by Armageddon . . . I was expecting to find a self-sustaining agri-world for myself and my friends so that we would be able to continue eating and living comfortably during world upheaval, without having to leave New England. So, it's either part of this, or some upcoming plan that I am now in training for, I suppose. Either way, I think I am going to have to get over this dirt thing.

Homelessness and the Suburbs

Yesterday, I met a man who is planning to buy and develop a working farm in my area. His intention is to make a home, there, for at-risk young people — kids who otherwise might end up on the streets, homeless or in gangs, kids with troubles like autism and other disorders that keep them out of the mainstream. The farm gives the kids a place to work and live, the sales of produce keeps the whole thing self-sustainable, and with some grant money and other fund raising efforts, it's a win-win situation.

I am so happy to have met a philanthropist with the heart and mind of an entrepreneur — a person who can see and execute solutions to these problems, and isn't afraid to put a lot of hard work into the "unrewarding" task of helping others. My own idealism about these things makes me a good *helper* for such an endeavor, but somewhat challenged in the *leadership* role. I really wish, sometimes, I could be that person who is really good at breaking down the barriers to progress on a big scale.

What I find in my own life is an ability to chip away at the negative structures of society, in almost minute ways. I *love* sitting with a homeless or mentally ill person and simply talking about stuff. I *love* being friendly with people whom others shun. I remember being "that person" very well . . . in fact I still *am* that person in a lot of ways, even though, today, I have *some* of the outward trappings of "normal" society. When I approach someone who "looks weird" and start up a conversation with them, I always come away recognizing how many people I know who "look normal" and have absolutely nothing interesting to say.

I try to remind myself of what Baba said about results of spiritual work . . . that a *big,* splashy, spiritual effort is sometimes only an ego trap, and can do more harm than good when the intention is misdirected. My most recent "big effort" was my call for a sit-in of homeless people in front of my house. Sort of silly, overall, to invite a bunch of homeless people away from the places they feel safe, to simply be homeless at *my house* . . . and I wasn't even able to rally my friends enough to guarantee food for them for a short period of time!! Mostly because I am "too weird" to sustain an effort like that from "normal" people, I guess. lol.

So, I guess the lesson for me here is "leave it to the professionals." It was sage advice my Dad gave me in the early eighties, when I started trying to sing Bette Midler songs as practice for some of my theatrical efforts. Bette . . . you are a true professional. I *know* you are right about the The Rose . . . it indeed exists as a seedling, far beneath the winter snows. It's *your* job to sing about it, and *my* job to cry every time.

Anorexia of the Spirit

A very unpopular topic for most people is death.

We are so loathe to face it that we spend ungodly amounts of time and money fighting it — by creating an incredibly unrealistic obsession with preserving and strengthening our bodies. In America, it seems that the entire culture is devoted to human "forms" . . . making them beautiful, thin, healthy, and eternally youthful — despite the inevitable and irrevocable truth of their ultimate decay and demise.

Nevertheless, overall, we don't have a problem with the demise of other animal forms. Most of us eat meat and even, occasionally, run over squirrels that dare to cross our paths while we are driving. Many of us respond by feeling bad for a short period of time, we may say a prayer — we may even try periods of vegetarianism or fasting — but the truth is that our culture puts a far higher value on the "form" of the human animal.

Does this make any sense, overall, in a "Christian" culture? Jesus Christ made it quite clear that it was not His "form" that brought His true presence or *any* kind of salvation into the world. We sit in church, weekly, hearing about how He lives within us . . . that He was "resurrected" and lives eternally. We study constantly about how we, too, have inherited this destiny, regardless of our "works." With a slight broadening of ideas, we learn about reincarnation — a concept that was part of the canon of the Catholic church for many of the early years of Christianity and is the backbone of Eastern thought. And yet, still, we are so engrossed in the culture of "body" that we allow ourselves to hate a body that isn't *beautiful* according to some marketing ideal. Some of us even seek to starve it, exercise it, or otherwise mutilate it with cosmetic surgery, until it is "perfect" and finally deserving of love.

To me, this only serves to bring a sad and poisonous version of self-hate into existence . . . which infects our view of ourselves, distorts how we see others, and generally creates falseness and division between people who should be looking for ways to love one another. Instead, we measure our worth by how we look to the world, and judge others for "failings" that we sense in ourselves. All of this in an attempt to cheat death, somehow . . . ??? As if *hate* will bring redemption on *any* level??? This makes absolutely no sense to me.

I find solace in the works of the spiritual masters . . . who find the topic of death almost funny. Meher Baba says, in Discourses:

When a loved one dies, there is sorrow and loneliness; but this sense of loss is rooted in attachment to the form independently of the soul. It is the form that has vanished, not the soul. The soul is not dead; Taking as important the unimportant emotions, and thoughts in its true nature it has not even gone away, for it is everywhere. Nonetheless, through attachment to the body, the form was considered important. All longings, desires, were centered upon the form; and when through death the form disappears, there is a vacuum, which expresses itself through missing the departed one. If the form as such had not come to be surcharged with false importance, there would be no sorrow in missing the one who has passed away. The feeling of loneliness, the lingering memory of the beloved, the longing that he or she should still be present, the tears of bereavement, and the sighs of separation — they are all due to false valuation, the working of Maya. When an unimportant thing is regarded as important, we have one principal manifestation of the working of Maya. From the spiritual point of view it is a form of ignorance.

There is much written about finding the "unimportant" things in life important. Every philosopher has his own version of what is important and what is silly to worry about. In fact, there are coaches, personal trainers, diet gurus, cosmetic surgeons, and fashion mavens who will tell you exactly what *they* find to be important . . . and many of them would disagree with me heartily on the subject of the body. All I can say to that is . . . show me, friends, exactly *how* you intend to take this body with you after death and perhaps I will start listening a little more carefully.

With September comes new lessons—keep watching!!!

WITNESS TO GOD'S TRUE COMPASSION Eruch Jessawala God's compassion is not what our conception of it is. His Compassion is always represented by what He has to do to get us closer to Him in order to lift us out of the rut of constant reincarnations. God's compassion therefore is always directed towards getting people out of the maze of illusion and the best way to free them from illusion is paradoxically, to bestow upon them not relief from, but immersion in suffering. That God's Compassion should be so expressed seems preposterous at first sight, but that indeed is the one sure means He can and does utilize to make us turn towards Him and face Him. All the other little trinkets that are bestowed by others who possess powers resulting from their advanced status on the spiritual path, like sight to the blind or the raising of the dead to life, do not express real compassion for they only result in further tightening of the noose of illusion around the neck of the seeker of Truth. The one real remedy for getting free of entanglement in the maze of illusion is to call out to God for assistance in the firm faith that He knows best what our real need is. But when do people generally call out to God? It is when their fingers are burnt and physical suffering must be endured that they cry out to Him from deep within the heart. This must not be misunderstood to mean that one must invite and embrace suffering for suffering's sake because there is a limit anyhow to suffering and no one can suffer more than the body will endure. But when suffering falls to our lot, we must learn to accept it as an attendant condition to our unfoldment and this means that we see in it the opportunity He has given us to live in Him. It is true that the body does suffer but when we suffer in Him as indicated, somehow we do not suffer as others do. They may view our suffering on the surface, but inwardly we are living in Him and the experience is not the same that others think they are watching. Therefore, when we suffer but live in Him, we bear witness to God's true Compassion. THE ANCIENT ONE, p. 209 1985 © Naosherwan Anzar

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An old poem with a brand new meaning

As I've mentioned before, I've been influenced in recent years by my studies in Eastern spiritual philosophy. I think this poem can be read different ways, but for me, the passion becomes a spiritual one, so I have titled this poem The Master.


The Master

Crystals dance on tiptoe spires
Winter grass with frost adorned
Pinprick skin by the fire
And you, in wool wrapped warmth
A heart of lava glowing
Simmer steamy eyes
My coat with melting snowflakes
In heap of dampness lies
"Are you warm?" you whisper
Shifting golden coals
A distant dream my shivers
The death of crippling cold
I touch your face
My hands embrace
Your ancient blazing soul

A new poem

I will be adding this poem to the poetry page shortly, but wished to post it here, first.

If I have retired, I am quite happy with my retirement plans — which include much candle lighting and poetry writing. Possibly, there will be some cooking and celebrating of holidays . . . but we will see about that. There could, potentially, be some beach sitting out there . . . or RV trips across America. I'm happy eliminating international travel completely, but under duress will consider it.

In the meantime . . . please enjoy this new work, which I am titling:

Friends

in the game of love and loss
there is no Monica, there is no Ross

in the game of show and tell
there is no heaven, there is no hell

in the game of hit the ball
there is no coach for one and all

in the game of hide and seek
there is no lion, there is no meek

in the game of truth or dare
all is love, all is fair

if you're feeling hornery
better think about the bee

if you're feeling bluish
better think . . . am I Jewish?

if you answer "I'm a Jew!"
be happy, friends,

'cause I'm one, too!!!!!

Blessed be!!! Hail Mary!!! Mazel tov!!! Shalom!!! Amen.

Oh, the Humanity

From Eruch Jessawala, in The Ancient One, pps. 41-42

At the decision-taking meeting held at Meherabad on August 31, 1949, there was one individual who told Meher Baba that he was caught in a dilemma which prevented him from making up his mind whether or not to join Baba in the New Life. This man was a devout lover of Baba who had a fine voice and used to sing devotional songs of his own composition which he followed up with talks about Baba. He had given himself over to this self-assigned work with such gusto that eventually many whom he introduced to Baba, began to look upon him as a Master although he never called himself such.
         When asked by Baba to explain the nature of the problem that faced him, he said, "Baba, there are so many people who have been coming to our meetings to hear about You, that we have hired a large hall and it has already been furnished. To give it up in a month's time in order to be with You will be difficult, so can I be allowed to join You in the New Life as soon as I finish this work?"
         "How long with it take?" Baba asked.
         "By the end of the year I'll be ready to join You," he answered.
         "By the end of the year the training period will be over, but you can join me," Baba told him.
         Unfortunately however, it turned out that this individual never joined the New Life because he was unable to shed certain attachments which had been allowed to form and to which he had become addicted. And therein lies a lesson for all.
         There is undoubtedly much pleasure and enjoyment in sitting around and talking about Meher Baba, but when that is over we must not forget to give ourselves a collective shaking in order to free us from any wrongful attachment which may develop. The attachment to which I refer, can develop from listener to speaker or vice versa, and it was this process which took place in the case of the devout lover in question. He became so drenched with the admiration that he drew from his listeners that he forgot to shake himself out of it and fell a victim to its enchantment.

I feel so honestly blessed, truthfully my friends, that the struggles I have gone through to try and reach my own version of The New Life have brought out mostly negative reactions instead of positive ones.

At every turn, for as long as I can remember, I have been ridiculed and shunned for believing in God. I don't know what kind of lives some of you have led . . . but in my birth family, discussions of religion were absolutely taboo, unless someone was making a really ugly joke at Jesus' expense.

My family is so incredibly stoked by the complexity of their intellectual prowess that they can't see the forest for the trees. They are brilliant . . . every one of them. They understand how the world works, completely. They are practical, and logical and highly motivated and ambitious. They are adventurous and fearless in the face of nearly every challenge that is thrown at them. I am talking about my mother, father, brother, sister, and every single step-, half-, and friend that ever walked through our door growing up. The challenge was out there . . . from birth . . . to become fabulous and brainy, and make good money doing it.

When God started "talking to me" in 1999 . . . the horror of it was too much for my family to bear. "Holy Shit," I could hear them collectively cry. "We've got a retard on our hands."

I say that word BRAVELY . . . because I know you all have used it, at least once. Regardless of the falsity of the world of "political correctness" . . . there is not a single person alive today who has not been called a retard on the playground. Welcome to my world — where, whether you like it or not, TRUTH prevails.

Backlash from negative energy is strong, folks. Whether you want to believe it or not . . . the judgments and criticisms that you put out into the universe are monumental in their effectiveness for destruction. When you are critical of people in your life . . . when you respond unkindly, or ungenerously to people . . . even people you think you love . . . the TRUTH is out there and there's no taking it back.

When you are jealous of your children, or angry at your mother, or unforgiving of your sister . . . WWIII is coming to your house AND FAST.

So, for all the intellectuals out there, and all my critics, just remember . . . this Earth is my home. I don't expect anybody here to kiss my ass . . . they never have . . . but, I am quite sure that karma exists. And, yes, really . . . THIS WILL GO DOWN ON YOUR PERMANENT RECORD.