Patching Things Up With Ivy

Far be it from me to sneeze at the inexorable demands of karma.

I can feel the need, calling me strongly from the "other side," to apologize to dear Ivy Duce, and do my best to restore her reputation among my readers. She is quite hurt that I have taken a jolly comment of hers out of context, and feels that now, her work of a lifetime — trying to get the world to take her seriously as a spiritual teacher — has been shaken down to its root by an awful shrew named Baba Ran. All I have to say to that, Ivy, is "ego, ego, ego . . . " (lol) but, truthfully, I do understand and will do my best to restore good will between us.

This is how much I ***LOVE*** Ivy Duce, friends . . .

Upon learning of Meher Baba, somewhere in the fall of 1999, I asked my guide in this matter what I should "do" about it. My darling teacher told me to get Ivy Duce's book How a Master Works. Yes, he also suggested Meher Baba's Discourses, and Jean Adriel's Avatar, and gave me the names of a few people to speak with . . . but it was Ivy's book that made it into my hands first, and was, truthfully, the most welcome.

Here is a small sample of the incredible poetry and beauty of Ivy Duce, from pps. 550-551 of How a Master Works:

"Norina related to me one time a story concerning the period in which Baba was working with animals. He sent out word that he wanted monkeys sent to him because he had to have one monkey who would recognize him. Myriads of crates and boxes of monkeys began to arrive from all over India. Every time, the disciples would have to sit in a room together; the crate would be opened in the center of the room and the monkey allowed to climb out and go whither it willed. They were getting rather hopeless about any monkey ever recognizing the Master, when one day a very tiny monkey, as soon as the box head was removed, rushed like a streak of lightning straight for Baba, climbed up on his shoulder and chattered wildly into his ear. Baba was delighted and handled the monkey for several weeks, I believe, but he became a great problem. He was small and there seemed to be a constant danger of tripping up people as he would dash frantically to the Master, and the disciples feared he would trip up Baba as he pranced around his sacred feet. When Baba's work with the monkey was done it seemed impossible to detach his small lover, so the Master thrust him into Norina's hands and commanded her to care for him. The Princess gave a hilarious picture of her problems with said monkey. He insisted on sleeping with her, messing up her bed and belongings, and generally creating more tension than any other situation with which Baba had faced her. She was forced to manage and endure this problem for three months before Baba sent the monkey back to its environs. I am sure that most spiritual aspirants would prefer being told to recite mantras for years than to take care of a monkey. Baba brings us down to the realities of living and makes us learn selflessness actively rather than letting us dwell in the ivory towers of psuedo-spirituality."  —IOD

This passage has meaning for me on so many levels that it is quite humorous, poignant, painful and liberating all at once. I don't intend to go into all of the nuances, here, but what I will say to my dear friends and readers is this:

Ivy Duce is a Master in her own right — a woman of honor and beauty, a darling friend to the downhearted, and a brave and hearty soul with an intellect that cannot be matched by man or woman, anywhere alive today.

PLEASE QUOTE ME ON THAT — and make sure to include all emphases & boldness when you do!!!  —Baba Ran

And what I will remind my dear friends among the living is this:

There was a friend of mine who once joked to her husband, "If I turned into a monkey, would you take care of me?"

And what I will say to my friends in both Meher Baba and the Catholic Church is this:

"Norina" was indeed Princess Matchabelli of incredible political fame and fortune, but was also well known as an actress in her own right. Her most famous role was of stage and film . . . where she played La Madonne to perfection.

And what I will say to myself on this matter is this:

Who is the Monkey? Who is the Mother? Who is the Master? Who is the Friend?

And the way I will answer is this:

laughing wildly with tears running down my face.
Je vous salut, Marie.
Amen.