Love Street Lamp Post 3rd Qtr 1998

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“The streams of 1ife, with their ancient origin, are ever advancing onward through the forms that come and go like the waves of the ocean.”

—Avatar Meher Baba

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SEPTEMBER

1998

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Center Report

by Lois Jones President of the Board he voting membership overwhelmingly approved the Center Operations and Provisional Renovation budgets. So, we are proceeding with plans to raise the funds needed to meet the conditions of our Conditional Use Permit.

We are pleased to announce that we have completely paid off our second mortgage in the amount of $25,000.00!

The interest we were paying on that loan will now be applied toward the princi pal on our remaining mortgage.

Meherabode is so beautiful in the spring and summer. It’s the perfect time to visit during the day and picnic on the lawn! Do come and enjoy your Center.

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Baba Birthday Celebration at Mehera bode

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From the Love Street Bookstore

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by Dma Snow Jai Baba and Welcome! my surprise, we have heard about only one new book released this quarter. No audio tapes and no video tapes. That’s a first!

The new book is a very interesting and informative book written by Judith Garbett, who lives near Avatar’s Abode in Queensland, Australia. Judith has spent much time with the women mandali, and is a treasure-trove of sto ries about Baba’s closest loved ones. 11cr new book is entitledLives ofLove—The Women Mandali of Avatar Meher Baba. Stories of Their Lives and Rec ollections of Times Spent With Them.

This unique book is based on the sto ries the mandali told Judith spanning a period of 30 years—during her iñany visits to Meherabad and Meherazad, the East-West Gathering and the Great

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Darshan in Poona. To these stories she has added her own recollections of each of the mandali and the happy hours spent in their company, as well as de scriptions of Meherazad and Meherabad.

For those who have met Mehera, Mani and the others, this book will re mind them of their own times with them. And those who did not meet these close ones of Beloved Baba will gain at least an idea of their beauty and what it was like to be with them. The stories have been checked by each of the mandali, and sometimes even added to by one or another of them. The major part of this material has not been published previously. The chapters on continued on inside back cover...

A publication qf the Avatar Melter Baba Center of Soi.ithern (a1tfornia

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£ov&Street LamJ2osr features:

welcome The Love Street LampPost is dedicated with love to Avatar Meher Baba. Its primary pur pose is to contribute to a sense of community among all His lovers by providing a place for sharing His remembrance. All the members of the Baba family are invited to contribute to this feast of Love.

Your stories, photos, art work, poetry, letters, articles, and humor are all actively solicited. We seek expres sions of Baba’s message of Love & Truth.

Please submit your text on computer disks if possible (in any software format); typewritten copy on white paper is also acceptable. Be sure to clearly identify all submissions and credit every quote or reference.

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Anita Viellard Message from the Mandali

mandali

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Dagmar Remembers Anita

Dagmar Lai

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Memories of Anita Anita Vieillard Anita Vieillard, Baba’s Loving Clown

Love Street LampPost Avatar Meher Baba Center of Southern California 1214 South Van Ness Avenue Los Angeles, CA 90019—3520 213 731—3737 or BABABOOKS @ AOL.COM —

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TomTalley

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TomRiley

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MaxReif

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David Silverman

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Greg Butler

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KenNuenzig

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Bhau Kalchuri

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Lyn Ott Lyn Ott: A Life Remembered Lyn Ott Services & Programs for Lyn Ott

In Appreciation of Lyn Ott Lyn Ott

Janet Luck A Final Farewell Letter from the Chapman’s

Sheryl and Rick Chapman

Janet “Mehery” Luck

submissions, subscriptions, donations:

Julann Lodge Bhau Kalchuri

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JeanBrunet

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Roman Babiak GregDunn

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Denise Pliskin

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JamesCox

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Kendra Crossen Burroughs

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Shar Wiseman

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Roman Babiak Moves On Roman’s Last Day

Miki Miki Follows Mansari

News From All Over

deadlines: for the January March April June July September October December —

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issue: issue: issue: issue:

November 15th February 15th May 15th August 15th

Love Street Bookstore: Dma Snow (at the addresses above) 310 837—6419 between 7:00 & 11:00pm 310 839—BABA(2222) 24 hour fax BABABOOKS @ AOL.COM

credits: editors: copy editor: design & layout: electronic expertise: distribution:

Dma Snow & David McNeely Clea Sucoff & Marj Sucoff David McNeely Thomas Hart Chris Lyttle

Happenings at Meher Mount

Meher Baba Center in New Delhi Pilgrimage Journal

Jay Schauer

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Happy 104th !

Jeff Maguire

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Easter at Meherabode

Special Features 1-leatherNadel

Mani

Judith Garbett

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Further Thoughts on Occultism

Don Stevens

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The Discourses: Seeds of Doubt

FlaggKris

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departments: Center Report

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Step Inside the Love Street Bookstore

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News From All Over

The Cove$tre4J.amjJPosr as published quarterly, in January, April, July, and October. All contents © 1 996 Avatar Meher Baba Center of Southern California. All quotations of Avatar Meher Baba, or books, ©AMBPPCT, India

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Mani’s Dream Book

Poetry Humor for lIuma

Children’s Corner

Mickey Karger

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Shireen Bonner

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Barbara Richstad

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_gw$ F84M ALL ova Happenings at Meher Mount

by Kendra Crossen Burroughs Meher Mount, California

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e were delighted to have Raine Eastman-Gannett from Berkeley here on April 18. Raine gave a benefit concert for Meher Mount of ecstatic vocal hindu and Sufi music.

The day began with an introductory talk during which Raine demonstrated some principles of Indian music. This was followed by a delicious home-style Indian vegetarian dinner expertly pre ared by Shree and Bhanu, two volun teers from Ojai, and served outside !thank you Baba for a gloriously warm day). Then we had the concert, with an audience of sixty-nine people filling the living room. Raine’s sublime voice seemed to me perfectly suited for singing bhajans and ragas. She accompanied herself on the harmonium while her husband, Bill Gannett, played the tamboura. Raine charmed us with her twinkly-eyed explanations of the lyrics.

In one traditionalbhajan (“RangaJina”), the singer says, “Krishna, you’re being very naughty, miraculously changing the colors of my sari just for fun. Motherin-law knows very well what color my new sari is supposed to be, and now cveryone at this wedding will know how you’ve favored me, and they will curse

“Krishna, you’re being very naughty, miraculously changing the colors of my sari jvstforfun. Mother-inlaw knows very well what color my new sari is supposed to be...” me, sojust stop it! I love you very much, I bow and touch your feet, but please, you must listen to me...”

In the second half Raine performed kawali and ghazals, including—to the surprise and delight of many in the au dience who had never heard of such a thing—some English ghazals by Francis Brabazon. Bill impressively recited a ghazal of Hafiz in Persian, along with the English translation. (I thought of it as a Jewish ghazal, since the repeated phrase was “Don’t ask! “) Everyone joined in on the final song, “Allah I-lu.”

Over the past twenty years, in addi tion to singing Francis Brabazon’s songs, Raine has worked as a studio musician and singer; has created her own choir, the Love Street Singers; has sung first

Dhonna Marie Sehwertl & Ken Neunzig Married .

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soprano with the Oakland Interfaith Gospel Choir; and has continued studying, performing, and teaching Indian classical and devotional vocal music.

The weekend of May 2-3 she re turned to Meher Mount for a workshop in Indian singing, and Jonathan and I participated. Only one of the students was an experienced musician, and we inexperienced ones were amazed to find ourselves actually reading the simple saregam notation system in no time and singing ragas and bhajans of Mira, Tulsidas, and others.

Jonathan and I had recently attended a bhajan party at the home of an Indian friend in Ojai where we muddled along trying to follow their printed sheets. Next time we’re going to really impress them with our new skill!

Notefrom the editor: Everyone is wel comed at Meher Mt. Call Kendra Crossen Burroughs to arrange a visit: (805) 6400000. And now you can visit Meher Mount via the internet! Their home page url is http:llmembers.tripod.cornl-EzaW index.html

On May 21, 1998, (the third anniversary of their first date of magical hour-long double rainbows over mountain and field!) before more than a hundred guests, and to the tune of “all you need is love” (Kermit’s Rainbow Song), and Meher Baba’s words on love, Dhonna Marie Schwertl and Ken Neunzig were wed at the Unitarian Universalist soci ety of Oneonta, New York. We welcome them to a new life in Baba.

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here is a brightness that shines from India’s North, shedding light on the poor, the hungry and the disad vantaged of that area. It is Baba’s Love, and it radiates from the city of New Delhi.The collective efforts of the New Delhi Baba community in developing a Center there for his work have been phenomenal. Kussum Mohkam Singh describes the building that houses the Center as a threestory site, consisting of five bedrooms, a dispensary, a sewing school and a large basement for conferences and meals.

There is a Prayer hail with a beautiful Charles Mills painting of Beloved Baba. A kitchen, a caretakers room, and a terrace are on the top floor. And of course, there is a iibrary.

The rest of the New Delhi Center is in a half-finished state, but is coming along nicely. The final plastering on the last floor is being completed. Kusum is looking forward to covering the terrace with seven-color plastic sheets. Adele Wolkin provided the very first book for the Center library, and the Center has purchased most of the major books cxcept for the 6th and 7th edition of Lord Meher. Many more books are needed, as well as furniture. The Sewing School has four sewing machines, but the students sit on the ground on mats. The Center currently rents a video machine to show Baba movies once a week. They are looking forward to the day when the library has its own Video/TV. In commemoration of Meher Baba’s first public darshan in Delhi in 1952, the Center hosted a “Meher Mela” Sahavas program on December 1-3. Many Baba lovers came from the West and stayed at the New Delhi Baba Center for the celebration. This past year, Baba Lovers have traveled to New Delhi from all over the world.

The New Delhi Baba Center provides many vital services to the area, including feeding the poor on the last Sunday of every month, and a community lunch every month. The Center’s dispensary is fully furnished and has been operational for the past two and a half years, treating over 4,000 patients in that time. Five doctors donate their services, and are assisted by volunteers from the Center. The mcdicines are provided by the Center.

For six months, the Center also had a day care service from 9:00 A.M. to 2:00 P.M. for working domestic women whose children were roaming the roads. The kids were from two and a half to six years of age. They were given bananas, biscuits and one nutritious meal per day, and of course Baba’s Love. Unfortunately their water well failed, and this program has been postponed. Once the water situation is solved, the Center plans to start this much-needed program once again.

With all of the trials and tribulations this Center has been through, this is certain. .Baba’s Nazar is there, and the love and devotion of the Center’s volunteers flow freely to the poor, the needy, and all who seek Baba’s Love and kindness. The Light of Compassion truly lives in the hearts of His Lovers.

Meher Baba Center, New Delhi: The Light of Love

by Shar Wiseman Meher Ridge Billings, Montana

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wife and I recently realized a long-held dream of taking our whole family to Mcherabad together.

Following are a few notes I’ve jotted down about my pilgrimage.

We arrived in Bombay in the middle of the night as always. Got picked up at the airport in the Swanee by the nice driver sent by Irene et al. in the Trust office. Drove to the Leela. In the coffee shop my family (sons Tim (7) and Kipper (15), daughter Annika (21), and wife Barbara) and I were seated next to a table of four bleary-eyed Americans. I overheard them talking about North Carolina, my home state, and butted in.

Turned out that they were all Baba byers heading to Ahmednagar, same as us.

Outside the hotel as we saddled up to go, we bumped into two more pilgrims. One of them was an American from—of all places—Durham, North Carolina. It turned out that Barbara and I had been his Baba connection, and this was his first trip to India. I don’t think I could have been more surprised.

So 1 1 of us in four cars caravanned to Ahmednagar.

The Pilgrim Center was as wonder-

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ful as ever. Although some of the residents described stress and strain from the unexpected influx of pilgrims (I think 130 or so were scheduled to stay through Baba’s birthday), none of the strain showed through.

The samadhi is just as wonderful as ever. Just the center of the earth. It was an unparalleled and unexpected blessing to see my whole family one by one laying their heads at Baba’s feet.

Delivered a letter to Bhau from Ziek and Tony about their wedding. Bhau looking (slightly) skinnier, but just as round and bouncy as ever.

I arti. went evening to L00000000NG lines.

Next day, Meherazad. A wonderful quiet day. Spent a delightful little bit of time with Bal. I’d been reading his book on the Samadhi and I told him that it was one of the best books on Baba I’ve ever read. lIe calls the picture of Baba lying in state at the tomb “Baba’s Universal Face.” This really resonates in me, in a challenging and incomprehensible way. As we talk, Bal says that the Baba lovers he meets are, for him, “Baba’s Living Discourses.” What a

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sweet wonderful man. lie is in exactly the same health I’ve always seen; that is, he still weighs in at about 14 pounds, and has that same bird-like and fluttery fragile-as-blown-glass tough-as-nails quality. Very lively and engaged. Wrapping his head with scarves and hats, wearing sweaters, and all this when it’s about 150 degrees outside.

Also saw Goher. She is fading like the cheshire cat. Her smile and supremely soft and gentle hands remain, but the rest of her is becoming nearly transpar ent, as insubstantial as tissue paper. If you want to see her, you’d better move fast.

Meheru giving slingshot lessons to the boys. Arnavaz just beaming. Katy looking wonderful. Aloba looking ever more disheveled, like an ex-prize fighter hanging around the gym.

Of course, another incomparable blessing, seeing these astonishing living saints greet my children.

The new no-hug rule is not being strictly enforced; it seems a comfort designed to give the mandali permission to back off from the demanding pres sure of us needy, greedy Baba lovers.

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People now rightly regard a hug from a mandali as a special act, and seem to me to be more gentle and attentive when one occurs.

A big thrill for me is singing at the tomb. There were lots and lots of musi cians there and we all have this desire to do our bit in front of the Old Man, to lay the offering of our sincere, medio crc music at his feet. lie spins all our straw into gold. The music is wonderful. Lots of Indian music, much of which seems to go on forever, sung from handwritten books of lyrics, often page after page. The long-time pilgrims’ and resi dents’ eyes glaze over. Also some teenaged violinist from U.K. plays and plays and plays and plays. Very beautiful, but as she plays variation after variation, people get very agitated about whether they’ll get their big chance tonight or not. I think of what it must have been like at Darshan programs, like in the movies: standing in line for hours and hours to have only five seconds at the God-Man’s feet, how sometimes, just as someone is weeping and covering his feet with garlands, Baba is distracted by Adi or Eruch, not even (apparently) looking at the lover.

Many mornings a Ute (Native Amencan) chanted, accompanying himself on an hndian drum which he played like a tom-tom. Also a woman played a Tibetan brass “singing bowl,” by striking it, amplifying the ring by circling the rim with a wooden dowel, then sitting down, just like that. Also someone has shiepped a harp to India—”tnavel size” she calls it— but it’s still amazing.. .the clean, small, pure tones of the harp in the morning air, echoing softly inside the tomb.

For the first time I notice how much fat is used in preparing the PC’s delightful and tasty meals. This means, I believe, that I am now an Official MiddleAged Geezer. It doesn’t stop me from sucking down six to eight eggs at a time, and mounds and mounds of french fries, however. I’m on pilgrimage, so the health consequences are entirely Baba’s problem, not mine.

Despite my best efforts I get yanked into singing in the chorus for this Birthday Play that’s being put on. Every aspect of this play, as I hear about it, irni

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tates me. I have very emphatic opinions about theatre in general and plays by Baba lovers in particular, and this play is pressing all my buttons. It’s just too much. Nevertheless, kicking and screaming internally, I begin practicing the big choral number being recorded for the opening and closing of this production. The bass line (my line) is just about unsingable. I’ve had an easier time finding the notes in Ives and Shoenberg chorales. I get the distinct feeling that this big Birthday Play is just a giant boondoggle designed by Baba to irritate my theatre aesthetics.

More trips to Meherazad. I get my chance to see Enuch. I’ve really wanted to see him. And of course, he sees my whole family, and makes jokes to me about them as he hugs them one by one.

I can’t imagine being happier.

Impressions about Eruch’s health are mixed. Barbara thinks he looks better than ever. .1 think he looks like his health is failing, particularly his mus cular control, but I see that he has de veloped a skillful ability to compensate for these weaknesses in a way that seems very natural and designed to put pilgrims at ease. lie leans casually against the wall in Mandali Ihall, resting his butt on a window sill, rather than go through the challenge of sitting and standing, for example. He no longer bows at Baba’s chair. I begin to detect, or think that I detect, dozens of little tricks like that. Later I see him nearly falljust trying to climb a step unassisted, and it confirms my impression that he has carefully reduced his motions to a small set which he concentrates on cxecuting precisely and consistently.

My wife, and others, think I’m overdoing the whole thing. .

Eruch doesn’t even pretend the no-

hug rule exists. lie hugs everybody enthusiastically, clapping the men on the back, roughhousing with the kids. It is quite wonderful. Quite an honor.

Eruch, I notice, likes to call people “brother,” while Bal likes to call them “friend.”

Davonna has really stepped up as Enuch’s assistant. She is quite wonderful. They’ve got a whole schtick going now—sort of George and Gracie in

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!:x3t Mandali hail. She tells Eruch’s stories while Eruch nods, grunts, disagrees, teases her, adds little details. The story is told wonderfully and the burden of constant storytelling isn’t so much on Eruch’s shoulders. Even though Davonna is telling the story, her focus is so much on Eruch, it’s as though, when it’s done, Eruch had done the whole tale and Davonna had done noth ing. She has taken on a lot of Eruch’s hosting duties as well, asking where newcomers are from, how they heard

about Baba, etc. The elegance and craft of this effort is very touching and very loving. I feel so cared for.

News that Anita Viellard has died has just reached Meherazad, so Eruch and Davonna recount the story ofAnita telling Baba that she wants to kill herself.

Baba says go ahead, do it now by plac ing your head at my feet. .now go and live the rest of your life as new. Baba calls this the suicide of the brave. Eruch and Davonna then suddenly remember the story of the woman who calls the Trust office at the end of her pilgrimage. Although she’s been at Mandali hail for many hours over the course of days, she begs one final story from Eruch on her 21st birthday. Eruch, pressed for time and not a little pissed by the inconvenience, recites this same story to her over the telephone. Later on Jack Small reports that this woman told him how she had made up her mind years .

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before that she would end her life on her 21st birthday unless she got some clear sign from God that her life was worth living. Eruch’s story of Anita was her sign.

Both Eruch and Davonna are amazed as they tell this story—they haven’t thought of it in years. I feel compelled to speak up and say that I have been to India five times in 15 years, and every time I get to Mandali hall, this is the first story I hear. I tell them I don’t believe that they even have any other sto ries.

At tea in the PC afternoon, one Charlie Gardner tells a story. Someone asked Baba why Mehera’s love was so special, and Baba re plied, when I ask Goher for a drink of water, she immedi ately drops whatever she’s doing and goes to the water and fetches me a glass.

But when I ask Mehera for a drink, she goes to the cupboard where she keeps the special glass that only I use. Even though she washes the glass every day to keep it sparkling clean, she polishes it with the special cloth she keeps next to the glass.

Then she pours cool water in the glass, but not to the brim, because she also pours in a few drops of warm water because she knows that’s how I like the temperature best.

Charlie went on to say that one day Baba, after receiving some water from Mehera (who had been cooking), re marked that the water had a faint scent of garlic. It was an offhand remark, but from that day forward Mehera never touched a clove of garlic again.

The next day in Meherazad, I talk a bit with Goher and Arnavaz, and on a whim I step into Mehera and Mani’s room. That story came back to me as I look at Mehera’s bed. I’ve never felt much affection for Mehera, she was just too hard for me to understand. Too femi

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nine maybe? Anyway, staring at her bed, I get a picture of her in my head. Glasses of water for Baba. It’s as though her love for Baba, all-consuming all-pervasive, was somehow something I could feel! see!smell in that room. I’m bowled over.

I sit down next to Mani’s bed and I’m bowled over again. Mani and Mehera lived in that room, but there’s so little sign of them. The only sign of them are all these mementos of Baba—pictures hung on the walls, taped to mirrors.

Twenty-five years after IIis departure and their lives were still focused only on Ilim. So little else of them remains.

The power of their love and their dedi cation hits me like a ton of bricks. I weep uncontrollably for about 30 minutes. I feel like an idiot.

Finally I pull myself together enough to decide I need to get out of there. I need to go someplace where there isn’t so much Baba. For the next 10 or 15 minutes I walk around Meherazad looking for that place where there isn’t so much Baba. Come to find out it’s a pretty futile effort. Walking around, however, seems to help me get control of my tears.

People inform me that Eruch has been looking for me in Mandali Ilall. lIe wanted me to tell a story, but by the time I get back he’s on to other topics, so I sit and listen. Good thing because I keep fading back into tears. It’s that damned story about the glass of water; it won’t go away.

Eruch talks about his medical eondition—he calls his myesthenia “My Sin” for short. And about how difficult it was for him to be with Baba. lie found that to obey Baba he would shade the truth and sometimes lie outright if he felt that the situation demanded it to obey Him. “Where’s Jay?” Eruch asked during this part of the story. lie found me and looked squarely at me. “I began to lie. .do you hear me, Jay? I began to lie.

He repeated this question to me a couple of times during the story of how badly he felt about lying to obey Baba.

Baba told him that his work with Ilis lovers was like making sugar. The stalks are boiled, and as they boil, scum comes to the surface of the pot and is scooped off, until many hours and scoops of scum later, all that remains is the sweet sugar .

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x3f syrup. Baba told Eruch that his lying was like the scum boiling to the surface of the pot.

As we eat lunch on the veranda, I need some water, and pour myself a glass. That does it. I’m a complete wreck for the next hour or so.

Barbara tells me that Mani called this “melting.”

On Sunday evening Barbara and I garland Baba, Mehera, and Mani’s tomb at the same time that Ziek and Tony are getting married on the other side of the planet.

One morning, sitting at the tomb in the early light, I was so touched and honored and surprised by the unex pected beauty of being there with that strange collection of odd and wonderful pilgrims, all of us facing the tomb as though were seeing the very hub of the world’s wheel. My family. My home.

Lots of pilgrims for Baba’s birthday.

Moved to llostel C. Discovered its wonderful charms—dining al fresco, bathing al fresco, but hot water on tap. Very pleasant. The huge dorm with 15 beds was quieter than the room of four persons I left at the PC. Also discovered a whole class of pu grims I found very intriguing—all these 20-year-oldAustralian women. cheerful, self-reliant, compact, playful, sweet. I wonder whether they’re typical of all Australians this age, or whether this is a special breed apart that has found its way to Meherabad.

Baba’s birthday. The tomb was decorated for a party. Very wonderful flowers—rows of garlands draped from the awning over the portico, and signs, banners, etc. One sign had fanciful letters that nearly everyone read as “IOU”— kind of a profound statement, I thought.

Turned out to be “104” (years old), very oddly embroidered.

Drummers from the town of Arangoan paraded up the hill. Sounded like a huge marching band. I chased up the hill to see the excitement, and found that it wasn’t (as it seemed) hundreds of people, but two young men with bass drums and a very loud and energetic technique.

It was amazing to see the mandali visiting the tomb. The men in particu .

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(x:z3@t lar were so offhand about coming to the tomb. They just came to the hill one by one, took darshan, and hung around, chatting with people who happened by.

Seeing that a long line was forming for darshan, I ducked into line myself. The guy in front of me turned and said hello—it was Bal Natu ( !). As we got to the threshold, somebody started pushing a bunch of us inside, for some rcason I never figured out. I stood next to Bal while the four or five of us in the tomb individually took darshan, and stood next to Bal as he prostrated himself. Naturally I did the same—what a role model...

And the Birthday Play. I dragged myself to go to it feeling like the pris oner to his last meal. What a shock: I loved it! Every aspect of it was so heartfelt, so pure of intention, that all my cxpectations of irritation just vanished.

The music was sweet and enjoyable, the actors charming, the play was light and unselfconscious. I had a wonderful time enjoying it.

It so happened that I chanced to see each group of mandali get into their cars to return to Meherazad. It seemed very surprising to see these astonishing hu man beings get into such ratty old cars.

Bhau’s 1951 Oldsmobile or whatever it is used to look very prosperous (15 years ago, any kind of enclosed vehicle had a certain cachet in Ahmednagar). Now with all the Tata sportutes on the road, it looks like a major jalopy. Very cool, I must say. Also all the ladies squeezing into their DeSoto like clowns into a cir cus car. A 1958 DeSoto for pete’s sake.

Complete with drawstring curtains. Ilow Baba treats his near and dear ones.

The lines for darshan around Birthday Artis. astonishing. Waits of way more than an hour—sometimes almost 2 hours.

For our last visit to the tomb before leaving I’ve forgotten to order garlands from Nanakar, so I buzz down to Flower Street at the bazaar and start buying roses. I can’t get enough. “Keep ‘em coming,” I tell the flower-wallahs as they hold up bunch after bunch of roses, convinced I’ve lost my mind. I finally get a huge basket of about 500 roses (400 ru pees = U.S. $10!). At arti the next morn.

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ing I ask people to help put these roses on the tombs. Most take one or two buds from the basket. I get impatient and start shoveling roses from the basket into people’s hands. It’s rose time at the samadhi ! Roses all over the place ! It’s a nice way to leave.

People sing “Ilappy Trails” to us. I’ve cried in sympathy while singing it to oth cr5, but now I hear it with so much happiness, tears run down my cheeks.

Finally, the return trip. I’m convinced that Bombay is just Satan’s way

of beta-testing prototypes for new circles of hell. We arrived at the Leela and hung around waiting for flights like every other westerner in Maharashtra.

My young son Tim got a vanilla milk shake at the coffee shop. As he drank it, he found pieces of garlic floating in it (hmmmmmm....). The showers at the health club are the best I’ve ever taken— perfect plumbing. Nothing is more pleasant—or sad—than washing off the Ahmednagar dust. At the piano bar in the lobby, on a bet, I sang “Begin the Beguine” at the top of my lungs and the whole placed looked on. It was seven o’clock and I think of that as my Bombay goodbye arti. The whole lobby ap plauded, but I’d rather have heard Avatar Meher Baba ki Jai!

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Message from the Mandali To : Dagmar Lai Meherazad 19 February 1998 .

Dear Dagmar

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Thank you for your phone message and fax of 18 Feb. about Baba’s dear Anita’s reunion with him. Last evening at Arti the women mandali placed a special rose on Beloved Bab&s bed in his room on behalf of IIis dear Chuchulu who loved her cher Baba from the moment of his embrace. We are happy that Baba granted her wish to be at home until her last. how blessed she is to have loved the Lord of Love all these years.

Dear Anita will be specially remembered by the Baba family for her delight-

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ful personality, bubbling humor, and her unique gift of amusing Baba. Both Anita and Roger will long be bered for their gracious hospitality extended to all Baba-Lovers.

We in Meherazad salute Baba’s Chuchulu’s love for him with a united “Avatar Meher Baba Ki Jai ! ! !“ With much love to you and Laura and dear Norman who were such a help and support to Anita, from all Meherabad men and women mandali.

Dagmar Remembers Anita

by Dagmar Lai

by Julann Lodge

Paris, France translated by Don E. Stevens

San Diego, California

[This article originally appeared in “The Echo,” which is published by the Paris Meher Baba group. ©1998 Don Stevens, used by permission—ed.] he most important thing in Anita’s life was Meher Baba. Meeting him during her youth certainly changed her life, and several months spent with Him—in Italy and in France—became her most important memory. She had a lovely closeness to him and had the gift to make him laugh. Tier greatest happi ness was to be able to speak again and again of her memories.

When Anita loved someone, she was adorable, very warm, a real heart com panion. When she did not like someone, she was entirely sincere and said what she thought. I had the good fortune to be loved by her, and I loved her, too. She was my first contact with the Baba fam ily, and her warm greeting—without knowing me in the beginning—com pletely enchanted me.

Our friendship lasted for 22 years.

In difficult or painful moments of my life, she sustained me with her love. She was, for instance, the first person outside of my family to visit my daughter Laura, located at that time in a specialized nurs cry. She had, moreover, a very special relationship with Laura. They had long conversations together: Laura spoke to her of her real worries, and Anita gave advice which Laura listened to.

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Memories of Anita

The death of Roger was a deep wound for Anita, and it took her a long time to get over it. For a while, she did not mention Baba. Then, little by little she saw that Baba had not abandoned her, and her life took on another dimension.

When she spoke again of Baba, it was with deepened love and understanding.

She told of one day when Baba asked her, “Anita, if I asked you to go about completely nude, would you do it?” And she replied, “With your help, Baba.” And I think this is what it was, the deep realization at the end of her life: that Baba had—already at that time in her life— prepared her to be completely naked, that is to say, alone without Roger, and that Baba’s help for her was there.

I was not there when, on one more occasion, she was hospitalized in the fall of ‘97, but she told me afterwards that at that time she was certain she was dying, and that this experience had re moved all fear of death. She wished only not to return to the hospital and not to die alone. This wish was granted, as she died in her bed without suffering, in the presence of her dear friend Anne.

I think she was able to leave in peace to rejoin her beloved Roger and her beloved Meher Baba.

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am very sad to hear about Anita’s death. Anita played an important role in my coming to Baba. It’s actually kind of a funny story...

Before I knew Baba, I decided that TIe was either (1) an egomaniac, (2) crazy, or (3) who The said lie was. I figured that I could probably tell a lot about Baba based on the kind of followers lie attracted, so I decided to go to a Baba meeting.

After the Baba meeting started, I quickly concluded that Baba was crazy.

I stayed away for another year. A year later I was in Paris with my friend Mehera Makeig, who was my original Baba connection. She invited me to come with her to drop in on an elderly lady who had known Baba. As I had nothing else to do that day, and I couldn’t see the harm in an old lady, I decided to join her.

Well, let me tell you how impressed I was with her. She was the embodiment of culture, and she made a huge impres sion on me. She was refined, elegant, intellectual, and knew many of the fa mous artists and thinkers of her time. I was so impressed that I thought, “Well, if this woman believes that Meher Baba was God and she met IIim herself, then He must be God.” I’m going back to Paris in April, and I’ll be sad that I won’t be able to see her again.

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Anita Vieillard, Baba’s Loving Clown

by Tom Talley Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

Compiledfrom talks given by Anita Vieillard at Meher Spiritual Center in 1 982, 1 987, and 1 988, and at the L.A. Silence Day Sahavas in 1982.

1931, Anita de Caro was a young American art student. TIer primary interests in life were art and painting, and her religious background was Catholic.

She was acquainted with Norma Matchabelli through their mutual interest in art. One day Norma told her that someone very extraordinary was corning from India, a spiritual master named Shri Meher Baba. Although not a spintual seeker, Anita was intrigued and asked if she might be able to meet him.

On November 1 1 she was brought to Iharmon-on-Iludson to meet Baba. lien nervousness about meeting him was quickly overcome as soon as the door opened and she saw Baba. She had an immediate feeling of familiarity with him. Baba opened his arms to her and she flew into This embrace. She was so happy she felt as if she was burning, as if she was on fire.

Baba said to her, “Do you know who I am?” And she replied, “Yes, Baba.” The said, “Who am I?” She said, “You are the source of all goodness.”’

Then she sat at his feet, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if she had always sat there. Later duning that first meeting Baba asked hen, “What do you want to do?” And she re plied, “Baba, I’d like to be an artist.” So he said, “You’re going to paint My por trait.” She was taken aback by this re quest because she hadn’t studied pon trait painting and didn’t feel qualified to paint Baba, but she did not dare say no. ( Later she would comment that this was her first lesson in obedience.) Baba continued, “You come in a couple of days with your paint box and you’ll paint Me.”

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After that first meeting, as she walked out of the room, she felt such a as if the whole world joy that it was had changed. I saw everything golden, everything was on fine. I myself wanted to write poetry, I wanted to say poetry.”’

In a couple of days Anita returned to harmon to paint Baba’s portrait. “I arrived with my paint box and the mandali were seated in a corner, and I arrived and Baba posed. Now it was something very extraordinary to see Baba. lie looked at me and I looked at ITim. I have no recollection of time. I couldn’t tell you how much time it took.

All I know, that I was painting and looking at him, and what was so fascinating was that, you know, the skin changed, the colon changed, the eyes would go back, and then the eyes would come forward. I found it most difficult, but at least I tried. And after a while, Baba said, ‘Be stopped.’ I didn’t even think of showing it to Baba. I took the portrait, put it in my paint box. I said to TIim, ‘But no one can paint you.’ And lie said to me, ‘Why?’ And I said, ‘Because you are evenchanging.’ And The said, ‘Yes, I am everchanging.’ And lIe looked and He pointed to the nature, and The said, ‘I too am an artist.’ “ Baba asked Anita to come back to harmon any time she had a spare mo ment. So she would come often, and spent a great deal of time in Baba’s pres ence. “I didn’t realize I was so fortunate.

I didn’t take that as something extraor dinary. To me, it was very natural. It was natural the joy that I experienced with Him. TIe would take my head [and press on it, much to Anita’s delight] , and I wouldn’t be serious, and Norma some“. . .

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times would be shocked. She said, ‘You know, darling, you have very bad mannens. Now you have to control yourself.’

But Baba didn’t mind at all. lIe told Norma just to keep still and I should be the way I was.”’

It was at this time that Anita began hen role as Baba’s clown. “It was most delightful, because Baba would always wink at me, and lie inspired me with such joy that if I saw Ihim a little bit sad I would immediately think of something to sort of, you know, make him happy.”

For example, Baba coughed one day and Anita quipped, “Baba, that’s wh-at you get for talking too much.” On another occasion, Baba asked to be driven around Sing-Sing Prison while lie did some inner work of contacting one of the inhabitants there. Afterwards, Baba said to her, “Anita, make me laugh.” And she found that whenever Baba made such a request, she would feel inspired to naturally and instantaneously ne spond with some bit of nonsense, invent some incredible stony, that would amuse Baba.’

Another time, Anita wasn’t feeling very well and Baba came to give hen something to drink, and Baba put his finger in the drink and stirred it before giving it to her. “I’m glad it’s God’s fingen,” she said, much to Baba’s amusement.’

Anita used to spend a lot of time with Norma, going to art exhibitions, etc. But later, when Norma became friends with Elizabeth Patterson, through their connection with Baba, these two would spend a lot of time going places and doing things connected with Baba’s work, and Anita would be left behind and

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e:E:x3®t asked to take care of Norma’s cat. So one day Anita told Baba, “You know Baba, I’mjealous ofElizabeth,” and Baba said, “Go right now and kiss Elizabeth.”

1 Anita went outside to where Elizabeth was sitting and kissed her on each cheek, and as she did so, she felt that Baba was inwardly communicating to her, “This is my work, and Elizabeth is your sister, and Norma is your sister, and she has work to do.”

2 After that Anita’s feelings of jealousy towards Elizabeth disappeared.

Once when Anita and Norma were together and getting ready to go and stay with Baba, Anita was present during a rather stormy telephone conversation between Norma and her husband, Prince Georges Matchabelli. Georges was opposed to Norma’s involvement with Baba, but Norma was adamant about going to be with him anyway. At the end of the conversation, Norma ap peared devastated. She told Anita that her husband had said, “lie’s seduced you, and now lie’s going to seduce Anita also ! “ After that, Norma just spent days lying in bed listening to sad classical music up until the time they were to go and meet Baba. When they met Baba, Norma told him the whole story. Baba replied, “The physical seduction is noth

Anita Vicillard

by Bhau Kalehuri Kushru Quarters, India

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ing. But the spiritual seduction?

Ahhhhhhh [indicating blissj” Everyone laughed and it brought Norma out of her depression.

3 In the Summer of 1933 Anita was among those called to come and stay with Baba at a beautiful seaside villa in Portofino, Italy. For Anita, being in that beautiful setting with Baba was like heaven. She describes the Baba of those days as young, walking with a tremen dous stride, radiant, and full of energy and vitality.

When they first arrived Norma told her, “Look darling, now this place is very expensive. So see that everybody doesn’t make too much of a mess.” Then Anita noticed some beautiful flowers and thought wouldn’t it be nice to cut some and put them on the table for Baba. But as she reached up to get a vase from high up on a cupboard the whole cupboard fell, spilling all the dishes on the floor. Everyone came running to see what had happened. Anita didn’t dare look at Norma. She looked at Baba, cxpecting to be chastised, but Baba ca ressed her face and sent her to go and rest.’

Another of Norma’s concerns had to do with the name of one of Baba’s mandali members, Kaka Baria, usually

referred to as just “Kaka.” Norma was very uncomfortable with using this name while they were in southern Europe, because in Spanish it is the word for excrement. She conferred with Anita about what to do, “Anitina [Norma would often address her with the Ital ian version of her namel don’t you think we should tell Baba that that is a word that we can’t use?” But Anita thought it might be upsetting for Kaka if he knew about it. So they decided just to start calling him “Uncle Kaka.”’

On one especially gorgeous day in Portofino, Anita was sitting outside looking at the landscape. It was very beauti ful and she was feeling happy. Then Baba came and sat beside her, which made her even happier. Baba said, “You know, Anita, I am both God and man.” She was shocked. She replied, “Baba, I don’t un derstand You as a man. how can I un derstand You as God?” Then, in a hu morous vein, she said, “Baba, You don’t have to say these things to me. You know I love You anyway. What does it matter? You know, we all make mistakes in life. You know, these things are of no importance.” Baba called the mandali over and told them, “You know what Anita said? She doesn’t care at all whether I’m God or man. And she even

group of six people came to meet aba at Croton harmon on Novem ber 11th 193L Among them was Norma Matchabelli, who brought a young lady named Anita de Caro.* Anita was a tal ented art student in whom Norma had taken an interest and was helping finan cially. On one occasion, Anita recalled her first encounter with Meher Baba.

I had been brought up Catholic. Knowing I was about to see him—all of a sudden I was frightened. I thought: “If this is such a great religious man, how am I to behave? I can’t shake hands with him. The only thing to do is kneel. I’ll make the sign of the cross and say ‘Bless me, Father,’ and kiss his hand.”

My heart was pounding with fear. The door opened. Baba was seated Persian fash ion. I looked at him and went into peals of laughter. I laughed and threw myself on him.

“My heavens! it’s you,” I cried. “You made me

go through all this masquerading and fear when it’s you! It’s incredible!” And I laughed and laughed.

Baba opened up his arms and wel corned me. I was absolutely enraptured and felt a tremendous sense of joy. My whole being felt as if I was in a furnace.

Words cannot describe the encounter.

It was like meeting someone I always knew, as though I had come to my real home. I experienced a great beauty and great joy. *Anjta later married and assumed her French husband’s name—Vieillard

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Lord Meher Vol. 4 Pg. 1474-1476 © Lawrence Reiter

Ze:x:x3®t says, you know, I could have made a mistake, and she loves me anyway” 2 The group used to take lovely walks with Baba when they were in Portofino.

On one of these walks, Baba decided to take a narrow path along the seaside cliffs. Anita and three others went with him. They reached a point where the path had given way.

Baba and an Indian boy were able to jump past it, but when llerbert Davy and Vivienne tried, they got stuck and were left clinging to a shrub and a tree, with a probably fatal drop to the sea beneath them. Anita, seeing herbert and Vivienne’s predica ment, just stayed where she was and sat on a small rock, looking out at the sea. She thought to herself, “Well, if Baba is who lie is, nothing will happen. And if it does, I won’t die a coward.”

She kept reciting, “A coward dies a thousand deaths, a hero only one,” over and over in her mind.’

Then suddenly Pendu arrived with a rope to pull each one up. And when Anita was pulled up and she saw Baba, it was an amazing sight. lie was clapping his hands and facing the sun, and his clothes appeared brilliantly white, and somehow lie was transfigured into a vision of perfect the most beautiful sight I beauty. have ever seen. No picture, nothing can ever give me the beauty that I saw.” 2 Later, in October 1933, Baba said Anita was to go to an art school in Zurich while the rest of the group continued on to Spain. Anita protested, “Baba, Switzerland is such a small place, and so far away.” Baba said, “You’re going to Switzerland. It will be lovely for you.”

When the time came for her to leave she was heartbroken and cried her heart out, but there was no changing it. Baba .

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•c:x:x3@t In Paris she had met her future hus band, Roger Vieillard. Roger studied line engraving at the same art school that Anita attended, and he also worked and was a tennis champion. She had told Roger about Baba, so Roger accompa nied Anita to Cannes to meet him.

Roger was very impressed with Baba. In later years he trans lated Baba’s Dis into courses French.

In Cannes, those with Baba stayed in separate two Anita houses. stayed in the house where the women were, which was at a higher elevation than the other house. Baba would often appear tired when lie came to visit them, and they would put together little entertainments for hhim.

Anita said it was like waiting for your fa ther to come home from work. And when lie did, he’d be tired, so you’d want give hum com fort and lighten his burden. You’d want to be veryjoyful and zerland. happy, to lift This spirits. When visiting Baba visited Zurich in July 1934. the ladies, Baba would say, “There is in work inner to do went Baba When heaven. Below is hell.”’ lIe mountain, on Fallenfluh seclusion Mohammed the mast had been in rest and behind stay Anita to asked to Cannes. One day Baba asked brought When returned. lIe until bed and fast you seen Mohammed?” “hhave Anita, his at astonished was lie returned, she Baba said “You come tohadn’t, so She glorious. simply was appearance. “ht him.” So she came very see and morrow and him at looked I When Baba arrived the little hut they had to down timidly have.’

You authority I said, ‘Baba, what in the midst of this for Mohammed built radi so was lie The had such authority; d. She neighborhoo French upper-class real but ‘Yes, me, ant. And Baba said to find to hut the of the door opened responsi great authority means having completely there standing Mohammed bilities.’ “ Later, Baba instructed Anita to go to nude and Baba was scrubbing him, while This men were bringing hot, steaming Paris and continue her art studies there, buckets of water. She was shocked and come to and wait until Baba called her shut the door and ran away. But it gave came, to India. But when the call finally her some idea of the work Baba was August in it was to meet Ihim in Cannes doing in the house below and how diffi 1937.

escorted her into a taxi and lie put his head in and indicated to her not to cry.

The taxi man looked at Anita and said, “Mademoiselle, don’t cry, you’ll see your father again.”’

At first she didn’t like it at the school in Zurich, but after a while she made friends and came to enjoy life in Swit

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cult it all was.’

Several of the Cannes group, includ ing Anita, took a trip to Paris. It was Anita’s job to warn Mehera if a man was in the vicinity, because at that time Mehera was not allowed to look at any man except Baba. Anita found this very difficult and confusing, keeping a constant lookout for any men in the vicin ity and saying “eyes up” or “eyes down” accordingly. She said to Baba, “Baba, didn’t you create man also? Now You’ve made me see them as monsters.”

At one point during that same visit to Paris in 1937, Baba was looking out a

She was so happy she felt as if she was burning, as she was on fire.

car accident in Oklahoma, the trip to Paris was canceled.

She was able to spend time with Baba during his visit to Myrtle Beach in 1958.

She can be seen in movies of that time holding an umbrella over Baba on some occasions. Even so, there were quite a lot of people there compared to the early days, so she didn’t get the intimate, personal time with Baba as she had in the ‘30s. She felt Baba’s work was becoming more and more impersonal. “The Baba of here [Myrtle Beachj was already dif ferent from the Baba of before.”’

11cr most profound memory of that visit in 1958 was a time when Baba seemed to withdraw inwardly to do his universal work. “I never experienced such a silence, as if the whole universe, for me, stopped It has remained as one of the great moments that I have had with Baba. Not a leaf [movedi there was no air [movementj no one walked, no one talked, and Baba with his hands, and as if lie was looking very far but . . .

window with a sad expression, and said, “Ahh, if you were to see what I see...”

(In later years Anita was to say she felt lie was envisioning the devastation of the world war soon to come.) Then lie turned to Anita with great authority, and said, “Anita, if you saw a dog all coyered with sores, you’d kill him, wouldn’t you?” Anita was taken aback. She could only mutter that she didn’t know, didn’t know if she would do that. In later years she would say that if Baba asked her that now, she would say, “Yes,” because her understanding had grown deeper than it was then.’

Anita and Roger were married about year and a half later. Baba had said, a “When you love, don’t fall in love, rise in love.” Anita described their relationship that way, that they didn’t fall in love, they rose in love, and their love had become even deeper as the years went on.’

The war years were very difficult for Anita, living in France. Even so, she felt Baba helping her get through it. When she was in Paris with Baba in 1937, lie had fed her with Ills hands. Later, dur ing the war, she had the feeling that Baba was “feeding” her, sustaining her, through those difficult times.

When Baba visited the West in 1952, it was planned that lie would spend time in Paris, so Anita stayed in Paris to pre pare a house for him. But after Baba’s

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“When you love, don’tfall in love, rise in love.”

—Avatar Meher Baba completely silent. It was Anita came to India to see Baba at the East-West Gathering in November 1962. Baba was on a pedestal in front of a large number of his lovers. Since there was practically no opportunity to be intimate and jovial with Baba, Anita was miserable. however, Baba did joke with her a little. At one point I-he asked, “Where is Anita? When she’s there I can’t be serious.” Then when Anita was pointed out to him, lie looked at her and said, “You know, this is very seri ous. Now don’t you make Me laugh.”’

Even so, in general it was a very sad time for Anita. “So in that terrible sor row that I went through, I was very un happy, you know. I saw Baba was sick.

We all knew this, the older ones like Kitty, Margaret and all of us. And we all experienced the same thing, but none of us told it to each other, as if we couldn’t tell it, and yet I felt as if I would never see Baba again in the flesh. But I

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couldn’t tell it, I thought maybe it’s just me. But when I read Kitty’s book, I realized that we all went through the same feeling of sorrow.”

So with the personal Baba less and less available, Anita felt she had to reach out more towards the impersonal Baba.

Concepts Baba had communicated, such as the “Inner Journey,” the soul’s progress towards knowing its real Self, began to become fascinating to her. And

It’s a great adventure, isn’t it? she would focus on some of Baba’s words, and seek a deeper understanding of their meaning. For example, “I have come not to teach, but to awaken,” and “Things that are real are given and received in silence.”’

“And that’s where I had to learn the impersonal side of Baba, and in learning that, there are moments which are so wonderful. When Baba says, ‘I’m in all of you. I know that I’m in you. You don’t know that you’re in Me.’ And you sometimes have a glimpse, when you’re with someone you love and you’re talking to, you have a glimpse, and you say, ‘Ahh, it’s like that thing that Baba wants to make us realize.’ It’s such a beautiful moment that you experience.”’

Through this process she gained a deeper understanding of who Baba is, and she began to feel more “the sacredness” of Baba. In later years, she summarized her journey with Baba as a progression, “from the personal, to the im personal, to the sacred.”

At the conclusion of one talk, referring to life with Baba, both for herself and the audience, she said, “It’s a great adventure, isn’t it?” Then she chuckled and added, with her characteristic wit, “True or not true, it’s a great adven ture.”

1. Meher Spiritual Center, September 25, 1987 2. L.A. Sahavas, 1982 3. Meher Spiritual Center, 1982 4. Meher Spiritual Center, 1988

Lyn Ott: A Life Remembered

by Tom Riley North Carolina first met Lyn Ott in Woodstock, NewYork in the summer of 1954 which, as it so happened, was the same summer I discovered Meher Baba. Lyn had recently moved to Woodstock with his wife and lived in a 19th century Lutheran church wonderfully situated on a wooded knoll outside of town. A mutual friend introduced us because Lyn wanted to establish an art gallery in a building he owned down the hill from his house. lie wanted me, a fellow member of the Woodstock Artist’s Association, to submit a painting for his first group show, and so we met.

At that time, artistically, Lyn felt an affinity for the non-objective school of art out of New York. My roots were in American impressionism which evolved into allegory and this essential difference in our painterly directions very naturally estranged us for the time being.

I first met Phyllis Ott while a freshman at the Tyler School of Fine Art at Temple University in Philadelphia. That was in 1949. She had come to Tyler as a special student in painting after gradu ating from Radcliffe. It wasn’t until the following summer, however, that we became acquainted.

The remembrance of my relationship with Lyn is very poignantly linked with his wife Phyllis and to my former wife Yvonne. It is important at this point to realize that from the very beginning Meher Baba referred to Phyllis and Lyn as “Phylyn,” joined in one essence. It is within the context of this understanding that I am writing these remem brances.

In 1963 Yvonne and I were living in Woodstock with our two children.

Yvonne was a practicing physio-thera pist. At this time Phyllis and Lyn were also living in Woodstock with their two

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children. Because of my relationship with Meher Baba, the artistic commu nity was well aware of him, essentially through the exhibition of my paintings in recurring shows at the Association gallery. My work was allegorical, in very sharp contrast to the domination of the abstract and non-objective influences in the art world. No one inquired after Meher Baba, no one sought his pres ence.

the four of us were filled with the brightness of Baba Love and lifted up together in gladness and oneness.

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I had heard that Lyn’s health was not at all good. The local physician recom mended physio-therapy. lie referred Lyn to Yvonne who had her office in the local medical clinic. During the initial treatment, Yvonne discovered that Lyn and Phyllis had been reading The Life Divine by Sri Aurobindo, and so, natu rally, the discussion turned to Meher Baba. Within a day or two we were invited to the Ott’s house for dinner. I also was a fan of Aurobindo and that evening initiated the most extraordinary discov cry. It established a friendship and a communion which was like nothing cither they or we had experienced before.

We were ecstatic. here were people like ourselves who loved Beethoven, Brahms, Bach, the Russian writers, James Joyce, Dylan Thomas, Chinese painting, Indian philosophy and so much more ! And besides this they were truly hungry to know more and more about Meher Baba ! We were so grateful to have discovered these kindred spir its. I loved their intellectual clarity, and

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their perceptions entered into wonderfully wide fields of awareness. What can I say but that the four of us were filled with the brightness of Baba’s Love and lifted up together in gladness and oneness. We were intimate companions for months and months after our first corning together.

These early weeks brought a desper ate illness to Lyn which had been brought about by the use of toluene as a medium for his painting in his studio. It was discovered that he was bleeding internally. The situation became critical and he was rushed to the hospital. We were told of the gravity of his condition and that there was no certainty of re covery. We sent a telegram to Meher Baba, who quickly responded that Lvn would be well again.

Throughout this time Meher Baba was in strict seclusion, wishing no one to contact him in any way. Phyllis and Lyn longed for nothing more than to see him. I was desperate that they should have that opportunity and I communi cated inwardly with Baba that this chance might come for them. I advised them to tell absolutely no one but to secure a flight and leave for India as soon as possible. Yvonne supported me in this. They came face to face with the immensity ofthe challenge ofbeing with Meher Baba. The conflict in this, however, was that an order prevailed and Lyn found it impossible to supersede Baba’s wish. Phyllis, on the other hand, had a tremendous faith as well as a deep intuition, and determined to go. Tier choice was heroic. I remember saying to her, “When you arrive before Baba, He will say to you, ‘I am happy to see you.” I continued, saying, “He will also inquire as to why Lyn isn’t with you.”

Baba did say these very things to her and then added, “Come back and bring

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Lyn with you.” nently closed to any further residency.

They did return together, and I ree Baba asked Yvonne and me to be re ommend that anyone who has not heard signed to his will as what had happened this unique experience should inquire was in our best interest. We accepted from Phyllis. It is an uplifting privilege his decision without question. to hear of this event.

Phyllis and Lyn were conscious and Sometime later, perhaps it was the educated people, placed on the Meher latter part of 1964, Yvonne and I became Center by Meher Baba for his specific enthralled with the idea ofliving on the purposes and for the benefit of all those Meher Center near Myrtle Beach. We people—especially the young—who drove there and communicated what we were now drawn there. The Ott’s new had in mind with Elizabeth Patterson. house was barely completed when these TIer response seemed poised. She heard seekers began to arrive. What they us out very thorfound was a haven oughly and asked of receptivity, an isWhat Lyn and Phyllis gave us to please ar land of repair. What in the way of understandticulate our conLyn and Phyllis cept in writing to gave in the way of ing, insightfulness and Meher Baba. We understanding, selflessness at that time. .is returned home insightfulness and beyond measure. and wrote him. selflessness at that his answer came time and thereafter at once by cable: lie very much liked is beyond measure. The hundreds who the idea and approved of our moving came to the Center knew without doubt onto the Meher Center and of design- that the Otts gave unequivocal friending and building our home there. lIe ship as Baba’s Love and work moved idded, “If Elizabeth thinks it is practi through them. And through their work cable to do so.” as artists they inspired so many who Upon Baba’s approval of our plan, entered their home. Those wonderful Phyllis and Lyn also wished to commit conversations, the laughter and—what themselves to setting forth in this new unique and incomparable meals ! For direction. They then wrote to Baba and that alone there is a special place in were also given permission. heaven for Phyllis.

Both our families placed our homes At their best as artists, both Phyllis on the market. The Ott’s property sold and Lyn are second to none. Lyn’s paintrelatively quickly and they left right ings of Meher Baba transcend portrai away for Myrtle Beach, but ours was ture and reflect valuable artistic and inaccessible and hidden away on the spiritual insights. Phyllis’ work on the mountainside, so it did not sell for quite murals at the Pilgrim Center in India some time. By the time it did finally sell are a manifestation of her artistic ca and we had the wherewithal to actuate pacity and her inner beauty. the transition, a significant factor had Lyn once told me that as he knelt arisen which altered our ability to real- before Baba in India he could not rec ize our dream. oncile the fact that Baba was God and It seems that as the awareness of our at the same time man. Baba told him project became generally known, a good to place both his hands on Baba’s face many people, especially those long con- and then said to him, “I am infinitely nected to Meher Baba, suddenly desired more human than you.” As I recall this, to have their homes on the Center as I think of Jesus as TIe wept upon hearwell. ing of the death of his friend Lazarus.

Now Elizabeth phoned us, suggest- And as I remember Lyn Ott and am ing that we come to see her for a con- grieved over his leaving us, Shelley’s ference. When we arrived, she was hold- poem on the death of Byron comes into ing a telegram which had recently come my mind, “I weep for Adonias, he is from Meher Baba saying that the gates dead.” of the Center had now been perma .

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Lyn Ott

by Max Reff aba, now dear Lyn has come to You. No doubt You are happy and he is free ofhis sick, blind body and so happy in Your ocean!

What a wonderful, generous soul!

What a great life in Your Love ! To be so inspired as a painter; to meet You in the Body, and then make the radical decision to enshrine Your form in cvcry subsequent work of art; to lose the external vision that as a painter he was so in love with, and to live the rest of his days in “inner vision;” to learn to turn his prodigious vision and talent and passion to the written word, giving us In Quest of the Face of God (a magnifi cent book about art, God, and civiliza tion), and his long autobiographical opus, Journey Out of Darkness, (still,hopefully,to be published); to take responsibility as an active participant in literally thousands of friendships in Your love, sharing his house, time, fam ily, sense of humor, love for You, and brilliant, wide-ranging mind with so many, in such utter discipleship to Your Presence—in, with, and all around him; and to support, as a friendly ear and heart, so many artists of all kinds that one person has referred to Lyn as (with a lower case a) an “avatar in the arts;” and certainly not least, to receive phone calls at all hours of the day and night from the brilliant, powerful, and respected, as well as those who may have had no other real, flesh-and-blood friend in the whole world: All these are attributes of a lion of a man who was at the same time a lamb of a lover to You, Baba. This world is a very different place without Lyn Ott. But at the same time, he continues, and will continue to reside in the thousands of hearts his great love and life have touched, the hundreds of paintings that will refresh the eyes and spirits of many generations to come, his eloquent “word paintings” already in the world and yet to make it into print; and not the least, the creative and life-affirmative acts that will proceed unto eternity in hearts and minds he has helped nurture in their journeys to God.

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Services & Programs for Lyn Ott

by David Silverman Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

he visitation for Lyn Ott at the McMillan-Small Fu neral home reminded us of yet another of the many gatherings of Baba lovers—at Lyn and Phyllis’s, at Florence Childs’, at John Dennison’s, and at Lyn’s own place, where we would all sit around and share our hearts and minds with each other, in Baba’s presence, where Lyn would be there helping and guiding, offering his always-thoughtful perceptions and providing a loving environment for talking about Baba. here, we all sat in a circle near to the cas ket, which was covered with a beautiful green and white cloth that had previously lain over Baba’s resting place in the Tomb before the marble was installed. We talked about Lyn, about our love for him and each other, and his love for us.

Leslie Walsh played the guitar and sang many beautiful, touching songs, including one she wrote especially for her father. It was hard to keep a dry eye, but we had each othcr and Lyns loving spirit was there. And of course there was Baba, Love itself, the Sustainer of all, the One Who gives and Who takes away, all at the proper time.

In the cremation room, we put roses on the container holding Lyn’s body, recited the Parvardigar and Beloved God prayers as well as the Jewish prayer for the dead, and as

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Lynn Ott the coat that was Lyn’s body was given to the flames, we all sang Meher Baba Vidnyanand.

Later in the afternoon there was a remembrance gathering at Dilruba, ar ranged by Lyn’s children Leslie and Chris. There was a lot ofgood food, and the comfort of many hearts holding hands, as it were. So many attended that there was hardly room to stand. All came to hear and tell about their life with this wonderful man and wonderful soul, who was so close to so many. Chris

did a fine job of coordinating the sharing, and, in a gentle manner reminiscent of Lyn himself, told about what a bying and attentive father Lyn had been, and how he had been almost a second father to so many others.

It is beyond my power to summarize everything that was said and felt and cxpressed about Lyn— his marvelous intellect and his wonderful sense of humor, and. particularly his love and encouragement of and attention to and availability for his fam ily and for so many, many people around Myrtle Beach and the country and the world.

He truly lived his love for Meher Baba, in service to oth ers, not only in his beautiful paintings of Baba, many of which were co-painted with his wife Phyllis, but also in his just being there for all of us.

Lyn was blind, but his heart had an eye that was bigger and clearer than that of most who have physical sight. You could see that eye in his paintings of Baba, in his kind and gen erous and gentle and loving facial ex pressions, in the way he moved, in the sound of his laughter and in his genial conversation. It was an eye that was always looking at Meher Baba, Lyn’s Beloved.

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In Appreciation of Lyn Ott

by Greg Butler

en I heard the news that Lyn had died, I was deeply saddened, knowing that I will miss his humor, his laughter, his personality, his intellect and his friendship. I then picked up his wonderful book, In Quest ofthe Face of God and opened to this passage, on page 20: “I have always had the freedom to explore the vast domain of painting purely for the sake of Existence, which is God. And now that I can no longer paint another painting, still the painter exists; but that painter is no longer ‘me.’

The painter exists in his paintings—nowhere else.”

So we still have his paintings, and his words. And as I was reading through his book last night, I could still hear his voice, with his enthusiasm, speaking them. I remember conversations with him from 15 years ago, when he would call me on my toll free number at the Los Angeles Times to discuss Meher Baba’s manifestation before Bhau’s book was published. Lyn not only loved Baba, he was excited and enthusiastic about Baba. lIe always managed to see things from Baba’s perspective. .

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woke this morning about five and went out to see Jupiter, Venus and the moon, together in the dawn sky.

At six I was still gazing at them, hanging out with Baba. It was a good time for our friend Lyn to travel on. I have a lot of memories of Lyn over the years, working with him on his book, amazed at his command of language which he gained through listening to

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“Jesus Christ, in His unlim ited mercy and beneficence, healed the blind. Meher Baba, in His unbounded wisdom and compassion, performed an even greater miracle, the miracle of inner vision, which is the Beloved in one heart.”

I remember being dejected about one of our political figures being elected. But Lyn was happy. lie would exclaim with laughter, “lie’s Baba’s man. lie will help in getting us down on our knees, helpless and hopeless.”

I also remember portraying Lyn in a film that his son Chris—a film student at the University of Southern Califor nia—was making. I had to be the painter, going blind, losing my place in the painting because of my ever-narrowing field of vision. I was able to get in touch with the despair he went through in the final year of losing his sight. Chris shared with me that he would come home from school and see his father crying, not able to find his place in the painting he was working on. But Lyn, as everyone knows, climbed out of that despair and cultivated his inner vision. here are his words:

Lyn Ott

by Ken Nuenzig

hundreds ofbooks on tape. And helping briefly on one of the very large (we used ladders) landscape paintings he did af ter losing his sight completely back in maybe ‘79. I remember for me it felt like being in a Renaissance art studio. IIis

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“What is illusion? Illusion is that which is not real and hence false. And what is vision? Vision is the Beloved in one’s heart.

When I came into the presence of the Beloved in physical form, and He had me sit at His feet, He gestured to His mandali, His disciples, ‘Lyn is very fortunate, for he does not see so much of the illusion.’ Without this reinforcement I would not have had the cour age to attempt what was virtually impossible.

“Jesus Christ, in His unlimited mercy and beneficence, healed the blind. Meher Baba, in His unbounded wisdom and compassion, performed an even greater miracle, the miracle of inner vision, which is the Beloved in one’s heart.”

I remember, on one of my visits to the Center many years ago, taking Lyn by the arm and guiding him—since I was the one who could see—on a walk to the ocean. But that was just the Atlan tic Ocean. Lyn, through the years, has helped me, and I’m sure many others, with his Inner Vision, walk the paths of the Center in our hearts to that Infinite Ocean we know as Meher Baba.

I will miss him.

ability to create a visual work via memory and verbal feedback only was extraordinary. I enjoyed hanging out in the Original Kitchen while Lyn shared his always-original ideas of Baba. Yes, He will be missed. Shared thoughts of love to all those close to him: to Leslie, Chris, Phylis, and the grandchildren.

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Letter from the Chapman’s

by Sheryl and Rick Chapman California “Mehery” Luck, Beloved songbird, his dear Janet Luck, inspired everyone who had the God-fortune to hear her sing to her Beloved God. For Meher Baba had gifted her with a voice which sprang from her soul and soared to his Divine Ear in the highest heavens.

Janet sang as no one else, with her heart in her throat and his light in her eyes, and it was all as natural as a smile, as natural as Baba’s gifts usii ally are.

Janet was also gifted with suffering, and in her living with the suffering she experienced, she also inspired. All of us who were blessed to know her will remember the strength of her heart and the strength of her love for her family and her friends throughout her pain: this is spirituality, and Beloved Baba is surely proud of his dear lover who lived so close to him.

Our very dear “Mehery,” we will remember you as much as we will miss you! Fly straight, fly fast, fly directly to the Great Loving Embrace of your Divine Beloved, Meher Baba, and into the company of His dearest Mehera and Mani, who loved you so dearly. Now you are His songbird alone, so continue to entertain him well, and we will console ourselves in your absence with the songs you have left us and the smile you will always be in our hearts.

Avatar Meher Baba hi Jai!!!

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Janet Mehery Mira Luck May 20, 1953 April 5, 1998 —

My darling wife Janet joined her Beloved Lord, Meher Baba to sing and dance in the company of His angels.

—Irwin Luck

A Final Farewell

by Bhau Kaichuri Kushru Quarters, India

Bhau Kaichuri shared this gfftfrom Baba with those attending the Meherana Sahavas this year:

received e-mail from Arvind saying Iwhen that Janet was hospitalized. And I read that e-mail, I went to Baba’s Samadhi, and I was praying there for her, saying, ‘0 Beloved Baba, relieve her from this suffering.’ Immediately my Mira Auntie Janet appeared before my eyes in pink sari, smiling and very beautiful. And I felt very happy.

Then I came back from the tomb.

At night, I received the phone call from Laurie Blum informing me that my Mira Auntie had passed away. I asked the time, and she gave me the time. It was exactly the time when I was praying and she appeared before my eyes, smiling.

Thursday, April 09, 1998

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anet Anne Leach, Baba’s Songbird, passed away at 11:45 AM on Palm Sunday, April 5th, at the Grand Strand hospital in Myrtle Beach after a long and courageous struggle with cancer. She died with Baba’s name on her lips and his sign of perfection made by the fingers of her left hand.

She was born in Florida on May 20, 1953 to Cynthia and Ralph Leach, and had one brother James and a sister Elizabeth. When she was quite young, perhaps three or four, and riding in a car with her parents, she saw Baba as his car was passing by. lie was smiling and making the circle of perfection with his thumb and index finger. She tried to tell her parents about this wonderful man who she thought must be the Presi dent, or some such important person, but then lie was gone. She felt quite depressed, thinking she would never see this incredible man again. Only much later did she realize that it was Meher Baba. Although she was never quite sure where this incident happened, she believed it was either in Myrtle Beach or in Washington because she was in both of those places as a young child.

While growing up, her family lived all over the world since her father was in the military, so she had the opportu nity and was encouraged to learn the music of different cultures. Later on as a student at Northwestern University studying ethno-musicology, she heard of Meher Baba and soon became part of the Chicago Baba group. She first went to India in the late ‘70s.

On Feb. 14, 1980, Janet married Irwin Luck in Miami. They lived for awhile in Somerset, New Jersey and then in 1981 moved to Myrtle Beach. In 1982 Janet gave birth to her son Merwan.

Janet had a beautiful soprano voice and was a natural-born actress even when young. While in India in 1987, Mehera asked Janet to play the part of St. Mira in a play for her birthday even though Janet was not an Indian singer.

It was difficult for her to learn the Flindi pronunciations and dances necessary

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Janet “Mehery” Luck

By Jean Brunet Manalapan, New Jersey

She died with Babas name on her lips and His sign of perfection made by the fingers of her left hand. for this role. But Janet agreed because Mehera had wanted a Western woman to play the part of St. Mira for quite some time and had even discussed this with Mani back in the ‘70s. She was personally tutored by Mehera in learning both the bhajans and Ilindu dances and Mehera even designed her costume.

Janet said she was forever grateful to Baba for the opportunity and experience of being chosen to play St. Mira and to consequently become so close to his beloved Mehera. Much later, when she was quite ill, she recorded these bhajans. An album has been made of her singing and is available for all to hear her exquisite voice.

After passing away, her body was bathed and dressed in the St. Mira cos tume she had worn for the play in India. Prior to her cremation, Janet lay for four days looking beautiful and very

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much at peace with a sweet smile on her lips. 11cr body was covered with peach roses placed most lovingly by Irwin and others. The Master’s Prayer, Prayer of Repentance and the Beloved God prayer were said by about 60 people, and this was followed by everyone singing Bob Iloldt’s song “The Ocean of Love.”

On Good Friday, a memorial service was held at Mt. Calvary Church in Brooksville, NC just outside Myrtle Beach. This church was chosen because of her beloved friend Bernie White who was her caretaker and companion dur ing the last four years of her illness.

Janet had sung in this church on Easter Sunday a couple of years ago at Bernie’s request.

At least 200 people attended for a most moving and loving celebration of Janet’s life and work. Songs were played of Janet’s singing followed by Julie Kohl Skiffplaying “Begin the Beguine” on the violin. 11cr friend Maraiya sang a song she wrote for Janet and then her longtime friend Pam Lane gave a most beautiful tribute to her. Jenny Zenner read a message sent by Sheryl and Rick Chapman, and Janet’s niece delivered a message for the family, followed by a reading by Christopher Wilson, and then Charles Haynes gave the eulogy. The 5crvice ended by her dear friend Bernie de livering a most moving remembrance and singing of “Amazing Grace.” A short closing prayer by Charles and it was over. A reception was held at the home of Laurie and Richie Blum.

Janet “Mehery” Luck is an example to all of us who knew of the strength of her love for her family, friends and most of all for her Beloved Baba. We will miss you, dear Janet, but thank you for the beautiful songs you have given us and for your example of how to hold on to Him with cheerfulness and a smile while suffering greatly.

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Roman Babiak Moves On

by Greg Dunn Pleasanton, California

oman Babiak, most recently of Palo to but well-known and loved by Baba friends in Los Angeles where he lived from 1984 until 1991, passed away May 16 at the home of Denise and Dan Pliskin, where he had lived for some time. FTc breathed his last early that Saturday morning after a peaceful night’s sleep, with niece Christina Ciepley, friend Kevin Mossberger, and the Pliskins at his side. Roman fell victim to esophageal cancer.

Roman was born April 9, 1948, in a small village near Frankfurt, Germany. lIe was christened Jaroslav Roman by his parents, who were from the Ukraine but who had been detained in internment camps during the war. A few years after Roman’s birth the family moved to Altoona, Pennsylvania, where Roman grew up, attending a seminary high school in nearby Connecticut as a teenager. Shortly after Roman’s graduation the family moved again, this time to Detroit, where Roman attended McComb County Community College before transferring to the University of Michigan. Sometime after leaving col

lege Roman moved to Chicago, where he lived until relocating to Los Angeles in 1984. During one period in Chicago Roman was an executive for a trade association for the concrete industry, with the responsibility for organizing their trade shows. While in L.A. he worked at a succession of part-time and free-lance jobs, many in the computer industry, and several having to do with electronic musical instruments. After moving to the San Francisco Bay area a few years ago he worked for several more computer companies, including Mindscape (in Novato, a maker of games and educational software), and most recently 3COM, where he was a project manager for the very successful Palm Pilot hand-held computer.

Roman is survived by a half-sister, Maria, who lives in Poland; by his niece Christina and nephew Stefan Ciepley, whose (now deceased) mother was Roman’s sister; and by many members of his Baba family who count him as a true brother of the spirit.

Roman loved Baba, music, city life, ideas, and laughter. He worked for a pe

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nod of time with a company known as Breakaway Technologies, a startup that marketed a musical instrument named “The Vocalizer”, a hand-held synthe sizer into which one could sing, produc ing a variety of instrumdntal sounds such as one might hear from an dcc tronic keyboard. Roman once designed a radical piano keyboard intended to im prove upon the conventional keyboard’s fit to the human body. Split into two banana-shaped sections and designed to be worn in front of the body, Roman’s keyboard allowed the player’s hands to follow a natural arc as they moved up and down along the keys. In the years since Roman’s invention, split computer keyboards have come into widespread use because the ergonomical deficien cies of the standard keyboard have caused Repetitive Use Syndrome among thousands of typists. Perhaps we’ll see something like Roman’s ergonomic musical keybcrard on the market before long as well.

Many of Roman’s friends have paid tribute to him in the last few weeks cither in postings to the Meher Baba list

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strung across the tree. It was the most loving welcome home that I ever expe rienced.”

From Rocky Rodgers: “Roman was the consummate socialite on a budget. lie was definitely unconventional, quite unassuming and nonjudgmental. I Ic befriended everyone and was afraid of no one. It would not have fazed his equipoise in the least to have approached Cindy Crawford to ask her out for lunch: Dutch treat even ! And I guarantee you she would have ac cepted. Because he was Roman. But he would have insisted on paying for cverything even if it was his last fifty cents. “his charm was based upon a guileless apprecation of people. lie was not interested in competing with or using people, hejust genuinely enjoyed people and they could not resist his honesty and magnetic warmth.”

From Julann Lodge: “I was able to drop by Roman’s house in Palo Alto as many of his friends did last night, Sunday evening. I was very happy to meet Denise and her family and spend a few minutes with Kevin, who has been with Roman all week. ( Thank you so much, Kevin.) Denise was so sweet and welcoming to everyone.

What a great family. I was fortunate to have a few moments to spend in Roman’s room, where he died. What struck me most about it was the tran quility and peace there. There was a lovely lightness and sweetness in the air.

“I just thank Roman for what he taught me through both his gentle life and gentle death. Thank you Roman, thank you. Last Friday night a thought came to my mind: Baba standing by Roman’s bed saying, ‘I’m a jealous lover.

Roman is completely mine now.’ It was a comforting thought. How is it possible that Baba’s jealousy is so sweet?”

From Fred Stankus: “When my wife Gigi and I travelled 1:0 India in November, 1987, Roman house-sat for us. We missed the 1987 annual Thanksgiving feast at our house that year so Roman used some of his creative talent to produce a cardboard cutout of Gigi and Fred in early Pilgrim tall hats with a buckle in front. During the Thanksgiving dinner prepared by Roman and Baba lovers and friends, he used this cutout of GigiFred as a cen terpiece on the table.

“When Roman picked us up at LAX International Airport two days before Christmas, he was in jolly spirits. lIe urged us to take rest at home first before we did any Christmas shopping, because the first thing on my agenda was to buy a Christmas tree and get it up quick. Roman said, ‘We’ll go out later and get the tree,’ Well, we arrived home, and as soon as I opened the door, the scent of pine and evergreen filled my nostrils. 0 Tannenbaum! There it was!

The most beautiful Noble Fir decked out with lights and tinsel and angels and Christmas balls. As I looked behind me, Roman was just glowing: he was beaming in a radiance with great joy that could only be love! WELCOME HOME PILGRIMS was printed on a sign and

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From Greg Butler: “You’re born, you work, you die, you move on.’ —Roman Babiak, May 10, 1998, while discussing his philosophy on life.

“And if you are fortunate enough to have a heart as big as Roman’s, you touch the lives of many, many people.

So Jai Baba, Dear Roman. Your life and courageous death was truly one of Baba’s victories. And though you have moved on, you will remain in my heart’s memory for the rest of my life. Thank you for your friendship, your encour agement, your generosity, your insight, and your companionship on the long road to the Beloved. You made a difference in my life over the many years I have known you. And in your final days, you taught me how to live. I will miss you greatly.”

From Tom Hart: “I’m surprised by the depths of emo tion that Roman’s illness and death has made me feel and am reminded, once again, never to take these relationships

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From Kevin Mossberger: “Roman meant much to many people. To me, he was the Best Man at my wedding; he was my roommate for three years; and he was my co-worker who started me on my current career.

But most of all he was my friend, and above that, a spiritual brother.

“I thank Baba that I was able to say goodbye to Roman, as I cannot count how many times he went out of his way for me; I still feel indebted to him. That was how he was—he went out of his way for many people, and he so dearly loved people.

“Roman first learned about Baba in the bookBe Here Now by Ram Dass; he then saw an article about Baba in a publication, tore it out, then filed it in his ‘spiritual teachers’ folder, and thought nothing of it again. Later, he got a job with a Baba-lover in the Chicago area, who then invited him to a Baba meeting. Roman was convinced by the end of this meeting that Baba was God. “When I asked him two months ago about his condition, he said this: ‘Death is inevitable. So what if it comes at 30, 50, 70, or 100? It comes. For the person dying, they get to move on to a new adventure in living. For those left behind, life goes on and life is beautiful before death and after death.’

“And that is so very true. A few days before he moved on, I reminded him of Baba’s Wish, to keep thinking of Him and repeating IIis name until the very end.

Roman nodded, then said very clearly: ‘Meher Baba. Meher Baba.”

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Roman s Last Day

by Denise Pliskin Palo Alto, California hanks for all your warmth and bying wishes towards Roman. lie died very peacefully at 8:02 on Saturday morning, May 16. I will briefly tell you how his last day with us went.

Friday morning I arrived at the hospital after Kevin Mossberger (from Australia) and Roman’s neice Christina had done the night shift for the fourth time in a row. The morning was spent preparing to bring him home (to his physical home, that is). We needed to take care of some difficult issues. I was not sure he could make the trip and I needed a doctor’s order that no matter what, the ambulance would bring him home and not take him back to the hospital. We felt that we had to have Roman’s final okay on this and Kevin asked him if he was ready to “go to Baba.” The answer was yes. At this time

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Roman was in and out of consciousness and could no longer speak very clearly, but his answer was clear.

Christina rode with him in the ambulance and I drove ahead while Kevin collected his things and brought up the rear. Roman made the trip well and he knew—there was no question—that he was home. They got him into his bed and I cannot tell you how right it felt.

The hospital staff had been wonderful, but there is no place that feels as safe and warm as home. At this point we knew that we had very little time left.

Jeff Maguire and Fred Stankus arrived within the hour and when Roman saw them he responded with his glowing smile. There are people who live 89 years and never experience the joy that this man not only felt, but generated.

Fred and Jeff stayed for a while and be-

fore they left they said the Master’s Prayer. Roman responded with his ethe real smile and a “JAI BABA.” As far as any of us can tell, those were his last words.

That night Prasava came and sat up with him so we could all sleep. At around 7:00 I got up, and shortly after I came into the room he started having gaps in his breathing. My foster-son Francesco, who has been one of his main care-takers, got up and we sat with him together. The gaps got longer and longer and finally I went in and got Christina and Kevin. They walked in as he took his last breath. lie slipped away peacefully with his face inclined towards a picture of Baba. I swear he smiled as we recited the Master’s Prayer over him. We spent the morning sitting with him and dressing him for his final journey. Tom hart came in time to say his final farewell and see him off. We all (including the guys in the ties and the plaid shirts from the mortuary) sang a bad rendition of Amazing Grace before they took him away. lie would have loved that.

Miki Follows M ansari

ome of you might remember a rather worn-looking, dusty, white dog that used to doze on the wooden bench outside the Samadhi. That broken-down bench is now gone, and so is the dog; his name was Mild, and he was Mansari’s last male dog. Tie had been sick for some time with a strange swelling around his neck; he died at lower Meherabad last th, about 1:30 Friday afternoon, June 5 p.m.

Miki was never mushy or fawning on people for attention, and he never bit anyone that I know of, but he fought off plenty of dogs while Meherabad Hill was his territory, and frequently came back quietly bearing his battle wounds. lie suffered the clumsy affection of many a child on the bench outside Baba’s Samadhi without protest, and when his wounds became infected and obviously painful, he endured the administrations of Jal and others without complaint.

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Sometimes you could not imagine that an animal could bear such inju ries and survive, but he did, healing to fight again and again. One was left with the impression that this was some kind of warrior dog, strictly business, and he never looked frivo bus or obsequious.

When Mani passed away, Miki fol lowed the funeral procession down the hill and lay by the pyre for three days until it burned out, only leav ing to get his food, then returning to continue his final shift. And after Mansari died, he did the same watch, but after that he hardly returned to the hill, as if the charm for him was gone, settling instead in Lower Meherabad for his final days.

Like others that have gone before him, he was an expression of an earher Meherabad which has now slowly slipped away, leaving us with only the memories.

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Life Is Eternal

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I am standing upon the seashore.

A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength and I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.

Then some one at my side says: “There ! She’s gone.”

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I’ve Passed Away

by Mickey Karger

Gone where? Gone from my sight that is all.

She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side, and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination.

TIer diminished size is in me, not in her; and just at the moment when some one at my side says, “There! She’s gone” there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, “here she comes!”

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I’ve passed away on palanquins and mattresses of straw, on aeroplanes and baggage trains where fate obeys its law. I’ve died on fields of battle and fields of flowers wild; while I’ve never lived past ninetyfive I’ve often died a child.

I’ve been carried off by fevers and every known disease, bubonic plague and symptoms vague, and once a violent sneeze. I’ve shuffled off the mortal coil of woman and of man, unhelped by pharmacopoeia or the wafting of a fan.

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I’ve been guillotined and garroted, shot and stabbed and hung; at the end of planks, inside of tanks, from cliffs have I been flung. I’ve felt the link snap suddenly in trenches stained with blood where I died in the arms of comrades half-buried in the mud.

I’ve died in the arms of lovers and once in the arms of a maid who tried to lift me from my chair in the sun into the shade. I remem ber once I slipped away in the middle of a speech, the papers flut tering to the floor, forever out of reach.

One Life’s Not Enough to Love You

by Mickey Karger

I’ve watched with growing anguish unassuaged and unrelieved as I died a hardened prisoner unforgiven, unreprieved. I’ve watched beloved spouses shed tears on my behalf and seen my rivals gather who scarce supress’d a laugh.

One life’s not enough to love you, So a thousand times we return To live our lives in a thousand ways, Your grace to try to earn.

I’ve died in the act of fathering and once to save a life; I’ve died the death that cowards die to the strain of drum and fife. But of all the deaths I’ve never died there’s one I’ve yet to try -the death of self to self’s travail when to self I finally die.

Each life’s a single movie frame, A simple, childish rhyme.

IIow sad it is we need so many lives To become that which we were all the time.

We drag our pasts behind us Like Marley’s well-forged chain.

We wear the fabric of our sins Which shows each bloody stain.

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Yet if we could love for a moment With all our lives and hearts, We might cancel all our tomorrows And never have to learn new parts

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V V dia in 1968—1969 for the occasion of my brother Dara’s wedding to Amrit, I was 11 years old. I knew that Baba enjoyed entertainment, especially of the sort that made him laugh, such as skits and jokes. Since I didn’t have any real talents that I was aware of (!) I decided to tell Baba a fewjokes that I had memorized, hoping that TIe would find them as funny as I did.

On British TV at that time there was a regular comedy show hosted by an cxtremely funny Irish comedian named Dave Allen. The show consisted of Allen’s very witty monologues as well as hilarious short skits, and our family loved to watch it every week. What was so entertaining about the programme, apart from Dave Allen’s dry humour and inevitable Irish charm, was his irrever ence towards his favourite subject matter: religion; and more often than not, the Catholic Church. Week after week Allen would poke fun at the pomposity of his particular organized religion; for good measure, he would often throw some barbs at other denominations as well (there was a running skit involving the Pope and the Archbishop of Canterbury sitting in their respective carriages charging at each other, as if in a jousting match!).

The humour was certainly irrever ent, but it was good-natured too; Allen wasn’t attacking God or one’s faith in Ilim. Allen would end his show as he began it, sitting on a stool with a glass of whisky beside him; and—having pub ned religion for the preceding hour— would say “Goodnight, and may your God go with you!”

So, unbeknownst to my father (Baba’s youngest brother, Adi Jr.), I learned a few of my favourite Dave Allen jokes to tell Beloved Baba during our visit to India. It did cross my mind briefly that I was running the risk of Baba finding such jokes “cheeky,” but I was sure lie would really enjoy them. I still remember the look on my father’s face when I asked Baba if I could tell IIim some jokes from the Irish comedian’s TV show. Fortunately, Baba did enjoy the jokes as much as I had hoped, in fact lIe loved them. lIe .

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3 @ t would ask me to repeat them frequently ( which was wonderful for me), and laughed uproariously (but silently) at each telling, as if lIe were hearing them for the first time. TIe was so very sweet.

I told Baba three Dave Allen jokes; one about a nun, one about a driving test and the joke that follows, Baba’s favourite of all (I would get many re quests to re-tell it!).

On a final note: supposedly, Dave Allen was excommunicated by the Catholic church. This may or may not be the case, but one day I hope he might learn that even though the church didn’t appreciate his humour, the Avatar of the Age did!

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path took him past the cemetery, and as he walked past the high wall he stopped dead in his tracks. “What’s that?” he mumbled to himself. As he stopped to listen, he heard “one for you, one for me, one for you, one for me.”

TIe cautiously entered the cemetery and looked around. lie saw no one, but could hear the same voices coming from behind a grave stone, “one for you, one for me. A look of horror came upon his face and he sobered up instantly and ran screaming to the priest’s house. lIe banged on the door, and when the housekeeper answered and saw Paddy, she was furious, “Oh it’s you, is it, you old drunk. Now be off with you and stop waking up the whole village.” “No, missus, I was drunk but I swear I’m not now. I must speak to his holiness, the priest.” “Away with you, you old fool!

I’ll not wake the Father for your rayings ! And so it went on, until the priest, hearing the noise, came downstairs and asked Paddy what was wrong. “Oh Fa ther, Father, you must come at once to the cemetery, for didn’t I hear with my very own ears God and the Devil counting out the souls! !“ The priest sighçd, “You’ve really gone too far this time Paddy—too much to drink. Now go home, there’s a good fellow.”

Paddy begged him and swore blind that he was telling the truth, until, for the sake of peace, the priest agreed to go with him to the cemetery. “Now, enough of your nonsense after tonight, Paddy—you’ve got to stop imagining such things. Stay off the drink!”

As Paddy and the priest approached the cemetery wall, Paddy grabbed him by the arm, and said in a terrified whis per, “See, what did I tell you?” Sure enough, to the Father’s horror they both clearly heard “One for you, one for . .

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In a village somewhere in Ireland, two naughty schoolboys decided to go out one night to steal apples from a tree growing in a cemetery. The cemetery was surrounded by a high wall, which actually made the boys’ task easier, since they would climb the tree, then move on to the wall where they could easily pick the apples. The boys sat astride the wall, each one with his own sack, so they could steal as many apples as possible. They had almost filled their sacks, when one of the boys dropped two apples into the street below, outside the wall’s perimeter. “What about those two apples?” asked the one boy. “Never mind for now” replied the other, “we’ll divide up the apples equably once we’ve finished picking them, and we’ll remem ber to include those two outside.” So, the boys climbed down, and hauling their sacks, they sat behind a gravestone so they’d be well hidden while they divided up their spoils. They emptied all the apples on the ground, and began dividing them thus: “one for you, one for me, one for you, one for me, one for you, one for me” and so on.

Meanwhile, Paddy, the village drunk, had just left the local pub for the night ( having had a few too many) and was staggering home as usual. IIis winding

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They stood transfixed, and the

Father crossed himself. “Lord have mercy, it’s true, God and the Devil have come down to earth and are dividing up the souls.” “One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me. there, that’s it, then” said one voice, “all divided up.” .

Paddy and the priest stood motionless.

“Wait a minute” they heard one of the voices say “how about the two outside the wall?”

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Mani’s Dream Book

by Heather Nadel Meherabad, India

eing that she was one of the most imaginative and creative people in the world, it is hardly surprising that Mani, Baba’s sister, had wonderful dreams—dreams that many Baba byers have heard her tell in vivid person in Mandali hail. She loved Baba-dreams, loved telling hers, loved listening to other people’s.

Following the success of GodBrother, her book of stories of her childhood with Baba, people urged Mani to write another book—perhaps stories of her adult life with him? She always re plied, “If I do, it will be a book about my dreams,” her dreams of Beloved Baba and Mehera, of Babajan and other Perfeet Ones. Creating a book of her dreams had been in her mind for some years, but in Mani’s tremendously busy sched ule there had never been any time to do it.

Sometimes for fun and relaxation, Mani would come up with a list of her dreams for the dream book. Sheila Krynski, of Sheriar Foundation (the publisher for God-Brother) had heard a

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whisper or two about the “project” and while in pain, her incredible care and meticulousness in choosing the precise would occasionally send Mani encour aging messages. In many ways, the words to convey her “dream pictures,” dream book was always right around the her focus on the work despite her wors corner, a sweet “dream,” the project ening condition, were heartbreaking.

And yet, so typical of Mani was going to her when doing do when she fi something for Baba: This began one of my most nally got old!

Little could we touching and heartbreaking to go beyond her self, to never consider her imagine that when times with Mani. own needs or com the dream book fort. Sometimes she was finally written, Mani would be critically ill. The book would get up from her much-needed began one morning in March 1996. In nap, tiptoe over to her chair and go over the previous five months, Mani had un what she had dictated, straining to see dergone two brain surgeries, from which the words as her eyesight had become diminished by cataracts. Goher, espe she had not recovered well. That morning, tired and in pain, while in the midst cially, would be appalled by this, and would urge her to rest. One day, when I of a superfluous editing chore she sud denly conveyed, “lleck with this, why remonstrated with her for getting up, not start the dream book?” Everyone got Mani said simply, “I feel a push to do this. I feel a push.” That was when I very excited, and she dictated two knew it was not just a recreation or dreams then and there.

This began one of my most touching time-pass for her, but something she felt and heartbreaking times with Mani. The from him.

Through the rest of March, with a great effort it cost her to give dictation

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short break in April (while the “ladies” went to Poona for their annual break), and then on into May, Mani continued to dictate her dreams. A letter went to Sheila: would Sheriar Foundation be interested in publishing it? (They were.)

Soon after that, Mani sent Wodin an invitation to illustrate the book. She had been charmed and delighted with his drawings for God-Brother, and for this new book she particularly wanted the “whimsical aspect” that he brought to his art. Wodin’s acceptance made her very happy.

When the 23rd dream was finished on the 23rd of May, we were thrilled! It was done ! There was some talk by oth ers in the household, “Shouldn’t it be 24 dreams, a round two-dozen, an aus picious number?” to which Mani laughed; you can’t have another dream on demand! The book was typed and ready to go to the publisher! But that very night Mani had another dream of Baba, the 24th dream, one of the most beautiful and significant of all, which you will find at the very end of her book.

In early June, the manuscript was sent off to the publishers in America.

The very next day, Mani went to Poona for a medical checkup, was soon diag nosed with cancer, and three weeks later came back to Meherazad to prepare for her reunion with her Beloved. She had been right to “push.”

In her last weeks, while she could, Mani continued to take a keen interest in the dream book: incorporating some minor corrections in the manuscript, talking about the cover, approving the book’s shape and size, setting the direc tion for the illustrations in response to sketches sent over by Wodin. A few days before she went into a semi-coma, I was able to tell her that the illustrations were going to be in full color, something she had always wanted but had not thought possible because of the expense.

Now, a year and a half after Mani re joined Baba, the dream book is nearly finished. The book design is done, and Wodin has completed almost all of the 24 huge pastel illustrations for it. By Baba’s grace before too long Mani’s longtime “dream” will come true.

Jai Baba! ,

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Kids Say the Darndest Things

By Barbara Riehstad Columbia, South Carolina

the winter of 1971—1972, I worked curing at a daycare center serving the housing projects in downtown Albany, New York. The following stories are from four- and five-year-old AfricanAmerican children; I recorded their questions and comments as soon as pos sible so I’d remember the wording cxactly.

One day at the daycare center, a week after I’d started teaching, the little four-year-olds were sitting with me on the floor and Bobby noticed the sparkle of a gold chain at my throat. lie reached his fingers up, pulled, and discovered my locket, which he opened to find pictures of Baba (and Baba’s hair concealed un der one of the pictures). Bobby held the locket in both hands, looking at the pietures very seriously. Just then Clayton passed behind him, turned his head to see what Bobby was looking at, saw the pictures, pointed at Baba, and declared, “That’s God! So Clayton passed by and Bobby continued to stare at Baba’s pietures, but now muttering, “That’s God, that’s God.” Then he looked up at me and asked, “Who took a picture of God?” I said I didn’t know who had taken the picture and Bobby then asked, “how do they come down so that we can see him?” I stammered out that once in a while God comes down as a man so that we can see IIim. Bobby nodded as if he understood perfectly. Although I never explained more and only said His name, “Baba,” many children would dig out my locket, kiss it and say, “I love Baba.” One said, “I see his halo.” One day I asked Joyce, at the easel, what she was planning to paint. She looked at me, smiled, “

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and said, “Baba!”

One day in the gym, one of the three-year olds from another class came over to me and said, “I see Baba in there,” pointing to my classroom. I turned quickly, but wouldn’t you know it, I didn’t see a thing!

Charlene, a five-year-old from another class, looked at Baba’s picture for the first time and asked if lie was my father. I replied, “Yes,” and she said, “TIe’s my father, too. Tie everybody’s fa ther!” Then, a month or so later, Charlene’s teacher approached me and told me a few of her girls were playing together and one had said that she didn’t have a father. But Charlene declared triumphantly, “Yes you do ! Baba’s your Father! Again, a few months later, I was chatting with a group of five year olds, each teasing the other about “boyfriends,” when suddenly Charlene piped up, “Baba’s my boyfriend!” And a little while later when I got up to leave, Charlene reached for my locket so she could kiss Baba. Meanwhile, Bobby had graduated to the five-year-old class and I didn’t see too much of him. But one day we were visiting and he took out my locket. lie pestered me to tell him who Baba is, and I finally said, “Well, who do you think Tie is?” And Bobby replied solemnly and softly, “I think he’s God.” A number of years later my own young daughter, just learning to talk, became fascinated with a large painting of Baba. I thought, “This is it! She’s going to say Parvardigar!” Instead, she said, “Big nose!” “

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Mani

By Judith Garbett

Excerpted from Judith’s new book LIVES OF LOVE—The Women Mandali ofAvatar Meher Baba © All Rights Reserved

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ani—Avatar Meher Baba’s dear sis ter, his lifelong loving companion, and devoted tireless worker. She was un usually gifted—her many different tal ents and capacities endeared her to cveryone, as well as gaining admiration and respect.

To entertain her beloved GodBrother, Mani wrote many skits and plays, poems and songs. She could act, mime, and mimic someone or something with delightful fidelity. She was artistically creative, even designed and made hand-puppets, manipulating them herself to present a particular show for Baba. She taught or encouraged the other women mandali to act in the plays so that all could help to lighten his bur den. She was highly imaginative and in— novative, quickly producing unusual or amusing effects and costumes out of whatever basic and often quite unlikely materials were available at the time for her plays and skits. She could sing de lightfully, and played the sitar well. For Baba’s enjoyment and relaxation in his Room, she often read aloud from hhis favourite detective or humorous stories, making the characters come alive by her clever voice changes.

During Baba’s physicallifetime Mani did much secretarial work for hhim, spending countless hours at the type-

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writer. She also wrote well and in a style inimitably her own. She composed the Family Letters for Baba’s approval to send to Western lovers from 1956 to 1969. God-Brother, her book of sparkling childhood stories with him, was published in 1993; and in spite of seri ous illness and pain she completed the manuscript for Dreaming Of The Beloved in May 1996, with the loving assistance of hheather Nadel and one or two others who did all the typing for her.

Mani was very witty with an infec tious sense of humour, and her efferves cent personality often helped to lighten and uplift the feelings of those around her. She was also very loving, wise and balanced in her comments and advice.

She had an excellent memory and clear understanding of Baba’s statements and messages, and wove these into her talks and beautiful stories about hhim and her own life with Ihim.

As well as all this, the many years she spent as Chairman of the Avatar Meher Baba Perpetual Public Charitable Trust brought out her impressive admin istrative abilities in the day-to-day constant workload of dealing with all manncr of people and problems affecting the Trust, in addition to carrying on a large amount of correspondence with Baba lovers all over the world.

Mani was beautiful, and often a fa cial expression or head movement would remind one most touchingly of Baba. She was of medium height with a good figure, had a fair skin, lively brown eyes, and dark wavy hair which later changed gradually to a becoming grey.

She moved quickly and gracefully, and one was aware of energy and purpose in whatever she did. For special occa sions she dressed in lovely saris, but at Meherazad and in the Trust Office she wore attractive Punjabi outfits which were very practical and suited her admirably.

As one of Baba’s two closest women disciples, Mani had the inner beauty, strength and purity of spirit which over countless lives finally brought her to be chosen by him for that role in this Advent. Although she was more outgoing than Mehera, she too had a quiet pres ence, a gentle but distinct authority which was recognized and unreservedly acknowledged by all the mandali, pu grims, residents and workers alike. At the same time she was very vivacious, full of fun, always natural, warm and generous, perceptive and thoughtful for others, ever friendly and approachable —a unique and delightful person to know, and spontaneously loved by cveryone.

TIer own total love for her beloved God-Brother and Lord was always there, shining in the clear depths of her beautiful eyes, felt in the circle of her embrace, enriching her actions and words. + + + + + .

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From the moment of meeting Mani for the first time at Guruprasad, Poona, on 31st October 1962 in Beloved Baba’s presence, and also throughout the sueceeding years, I always felt a very deep and strong connection with her as though I had known her in many previ ous lives. Even during the year before meeting her I had a vivid impression of her personality from letters she wrote to Bill Le Page and his family, but mainly of course from her delightful Family Letters.

On the first afternoon of the EastWest Gathering, Thursday 1st Novem

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ber 1962 when all the Western women were called to the women mandali’s rooms for changes of clothing after the sudden rain- storm, I did not talk to Mani or any of the others, being too shy and too overwhelmed by all that had already happened.

But on Saturday afternoon I did see Mani, and to this day I do not know how this touching encounter came about. I had not been at all well that morning, and at Guruprasad after lunch was told to see the Indian woman doctor on duty there (not Dr. Goher). Somehow Mani must have heard I was sick, for she came and took me into one of the main rooms, telling me to lie down for a while. She left the room but returned after a few

she will always remain the perfect example of the many attributes which grace a life of unquestioning obedience, one-pointed devotion and seWess servicefor the GodMan, Avatar Meher Baba. moments with a large square chiffon scarf which she gently spread over me.

A little later she came back to see how I was getting on. I said I felt better and would like to go and join the others for the programme. So she led me through the women mandali’s rooms, that being the quickest way. + + + + + .

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Ilere is another little picture of Mani, at the Trust Office in 1987: When I went to the office at 3:30 for tea with Mani, she called me to sit op posite her at her desk. Two others were already there, and Mani chatted to us on various subjects.

Tea was brought in by Lakshman, the old servant who had been there for so many years with Adi Senior. Drinking the tea, I sat listening to Mani, enjoying being there with her. Now and then she would interrupt her story-telling to read through and sign a letter, or carefully check a draft, making changes here and there. She picked up a postcard someone had sent her and chatted about the

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dog pictured on it. Then the woman sitting beside me began talking about her small child, and Mani listened as though it was the most important thing for her at that moment. I thought, ‘lIow loving she is always, to everyone!’

At Meherazad on 19th August 1996 at 7:01 AM Beloved Baba called Ilis dearest sister to leave her sweet form as Mani to be reunited with Ilim.

At about 6:00 PM that evening her funeral pyre was lit at lower Meherabad.

For all those present it was extraordi naruly beautiful. It lasted for three days, an unusually long time, with many rare and meaningful occurrences. TIer ashes were kept at Meherazad until Saturday 7th September, then taken to Meherabad and placed in the Samadhi overnight. During a touching farewell ceremony at 11:00 AM on 8th Septem ber Mani’s ashes were laid in her shrine next to the Samadhi at Baba’s left hand, as lie had instructed years before.

I know that everyone—the mandali, members of her family, staff, and thousands of Baba lovers around the world— all who were associated with her, who knew and loved her over so many years, will always miss her specially-warm and delightful company at Meherazad, Meherabad, the Trust Office and Poona.

From far-away Avatar’s Abode I too miss Mani. I think of her every day remem bering her with love, and continually thank Beloved Baba for allowing me to spend so much time with her on every one of my many visits.

Stories about her and her total love for her beloved God-Brother are already legion, and will continue to be added to over the years as people of all ages and backgrounds remember and talk about their times with her.

Mani held a unique place as one of the two women closest to Beloved Baba.

In her lifelong work for him she dem onstrated most beautifully that work for IIim was ever synonymous with love for Him, and she will always remain the perfect example of the many attributes which grace a life of unquestioning obe dience, one-pointed devotion and selfless service for the God-Man, Avatar Meher Baba.

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Further Thoughts on 0 C cultism

by Don Stevens

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aving read and listened with great interest to various comments on the subject of Occultism, several thoughts come to mind which I feel are important to add to the record at this time. While personal experiences have been recounted in some instances, and also quotes from Meher Baba’s Dis courses, there remain two principal ar eas clarified by Baba himself that are essential to balance out the picture Baba gives us. These are his description of the natural development of occult powers in the spiritual ongoing of the aspir ant, and secondly, some of his cornments on why and how the Perfect Ones also make use of their own powers to help an aspirant at a critical point in his ongoing.

Because of my own predominantly negative personal experiences and re actions to the occult, I have on several occasions committed serious errors in presenting and commenting on the subject. I would not like to see similar mis-

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takes made inadvertently by devotees of Baba because of incomplete knowl edge of what Baba himself has put into the record to guide us. As I have just completed a project for a Spanish publisher on Baba’s life and philosophy, I have abstracted several portions from a chapter on Occultism which cover por tions of the two aspects mentioned above, and offer them for whatever light they may bring.

“The spiritual path leading to the emancipation of consciousness brings with it an unfoldment of many psychic capacities which are latent in the hu man soul. This unfoldment increases the scope and range of human consciousness. These new elements often play an important part in helping or hindering the spiritual emancipation of consciousness. Therefore, the aspirant not only has to understand the value of such cxpcriences as unusual and significant dreams, visions, astral journeys, and glimpses of the subtle world, but he also has to learn to distinguish real occult

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t experiences from hallucinations and de lusions.

“Although it is customary to exag gerate the importance of occult experi ences, it is not uncommon to doubt their validity, and to treat them with the contempt usually accorded to all forms of mental aberrations and abnormalities.

The attitude ofunqualified contempt for occult experiences is of course most pronounced in those who are not even abecedarians in direct knowledge of the occult. It hurts the ego to admit and feel that there might be vast unexplored fields of the universe that are accessible to just a limited number of persons, and from which one happens to be excluded.

The undeserved contempt that occultism at times receives is almost always the outcome of profound ignorance about its real meaning. This attitude of contempt is of course different from a cautious and critical attitude. Those who have a cautious and critical ap proach and who are endowed with hu milky and openness of mind are ever ready to recognize and admit occult phenomena when they occur.

“An aspirant is usually helped by a Perfect Master through ordinary means, and the Master prefers to take him veiled along the spiritual path. But when there are specific indications, he may also use occult techniques to help the aspirant.

Special types of dreams are among the common methods used for touching the deeper life of the aspirant. Masters have not infrequently first contacted aspir ants by appearing in their dreams. Such dreams, however, have to be carefully distinguished from ordinary dreams. In ordinary dreams the subtle body is ae tive in exercising its functions of seeing, tasting, smelling, touching and hearing; but the soul is not using the subtle body with full consciousness. As these experiences in ordinary dreams are re ceived subconsciously, they are in most cases purely subjective, relating to physical activities and concerning the gross world, and are the creations of nascent sanskaras stored in the mind.

In some cases, however, a dream that is indistinguishable from ordinary dreams may be the reflection in the subcon scious of some objective experience of

E:x3t the subtle body and not merely a prodnet of fancy.”

Such completely contrary reactions to occult experiences is not uncommon, given the diversity of human nature. It does serve to alert one however to the importance of a very careful analysis of this area, whether one is attracted to or repelled by it. Above all, those hypno tized by occult phenomena should be aware of the fact that they will need eventually to refocus on more important avenues of endeavor. Correspondingly, however, those who reject outright the realm of the occult must make the op posite adjustment of gradually accepting this realm for the value that is fi nally to be embodied for them in such 2 “The beginner is apt to cxexperiences. aggerate the importance of his glimpse into the inner worlds and to develop an ungovernable craving for repetition of these experiences, or tries to treat them as abnormal phenomena and underrates their significance. Of these two alterna tives, the attitude of exaggerating the importance of occult experiences is the most common, because the novelty and rarity of occult experiences are factors that contribute to charging them with overwhelming An even more important misuse of these occult experiences that Baba points out is to come to depend on them as a goad to action. The aspirant refuses to budge unless he has a divine portent indicating the way. It is especially in such instances of over-dependence that it is important to be under the direct 4 “In order to guidance of a real Master. avoid the pitfall for the aspirant, the Master takes good care not to cater to his new craving for occult experiences.

Such experiences are vouchsafed to the aspirant if and when they are absolutely necessary for spiritual purposes and not The when he wants or asks for them. introduction of the aspirant to occult phenomena is necessarily a very gradual and prolonged process. The Master is never anxious to expedite it, as few persons are really qualified to stand the expansion of their experience in this 5 new dimension.”

Although Meher Baba rarely referred to occult phenomena in these words, TIe “

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did frequently discuss the subject of miracles. There is no ready rule to dif ferentiate one from the other. Often, the word miracle is used simply in a polite context for a happening associated with religious exercises and experiences. In other words, the best clarification would be to suggest firstly that all events which cannot be explained through any estab lished physicallaws are almost certainly caused by occult forces, and secondly that miracles are always on the white magic side and never on the black.

This is by no means intended to belittle events established through the cen tunes, especially by the Catholic Church. There is every reason to believe that those who caused them or partici pated in them were in most cases mdividuals of great spiritual stature. The only point we are suggesting is that the forces involved are impossible to differentiate from what are termed in esoteric literature as occult forces. Indeed there is even a tradition that when Jesus Christ was about to perform a miracle,

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he deliberately established himself on the fourth plane, where the infinite divine forces are readily and naturally available 6 It is singular that Meher Baba repeatedly made a strong point of his declara tion that lie did not perform miracles.

And yet many of those closest to IIim during his lifetime love to recount stunfling tales of the most miraculous na ture. If Baba was accosted with such a story, at least in Ills later years, he al ways said simply that TIe had not consciously participated in the event being 7 “Even when real occult cxdescribed. perience can be clearly differentiated from illusion, it suffers in its power and efficacy if it becomes the object of doubt. This can happen when the person who has had the experience dis cusses the matter with others who, because of their incapacity to understand such things, throw out contrary thoughts and shake his conviction. For this reason, the Master usually requires a disciple to maintain strict secrecy

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I about his experiences. Even a deep cxperience is likely to become weak through the contradiction and skepti cism of others, unless the aspirant has learned to follow his own inner experi ence irrespective of what others think or say. If the aspirant is to make quick progress and to profit most from the iviaster’s help, he must develop immense and unshakable confidence in himself and the Master. lie must not look to oth ers for guidance, because those who will understand his problems or his experi ences are very few. The aspirant must indeed be prepared to face the possibil ity of not being completely understood by any of his friends or relatives, for they may be in the dark about the grounds for his ideology and course of action.

“If at the time of its occurrence an occult experience has served the pur pose of giving new momentum to spintual endeavor, it often does not matter if the aspirant considers it in retrospec tive analysis and thought as being a form of delusion. however, there are some occult experiences that are deliberately vouchsafed to the aspirant in order that they should be standing sources of inspiration and guidance. With regard to these special experiences, it becomes necessary that the aspirant cease doubting their validity and importance.

“The general attitude of seeking endless corroboration of occult experiences is definitely unhealthy, and the Master gives corroborative confirmation only when he considers it necessary. Further,

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t he takes the initiative in the way he judges best in the situation. Whatever he does arises from his unfettered dis cretion and is in no way related to or dependent upon any expectation devel oped by the aspirant. But when it is spintually necessary, the Master does increase the efficacy of occult experience by confirming its validity and authority through some direct or indirect corrobo ration from the aspirant’s normal range of experience.”

8 Meher Baba finishes off this aspect of the subject with a final prod for the aspirant not to neglect his own inner effort in the intoxication of having had some supernatural expeni ence: “The harnessing of occult forces is not to be regarded in any way as a substitute for the inner effort the aspir

of humanity; yet even they are very sparing and economical in its use. By its very nature, occultism as an art has its own natural limitations. It cannot be widely used for helping the material needs of humanity or helping it in its mundane purposes. The introduction of an uncertain and incalculable factor, which the free exercise of occult power would involve, is bound to create much confusion and disturbance in the ordi nary pursuits of man, who must be left to his own limitations, resources, and possibilities for the equal and uninter rupted working out of the law of karma.

The use of occult power, therefore, has to be strictly restricted to the furtherance of spiritual purposes.”° 1. Discourses, pp.180—181 2. TheMaster, ©1997 by D.E. Stevens,

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planned for appearance shortly in Spanish.

Discourses, p. 181 TheMaster, chapter on “Ocultism” Discourses, pp.181—182 For a detailed discussion of just who uses just which powers, see the Supplement of God Speaks, pp. 222—232.

7. TheMaster, Occultism.

8. Discourses, pp.183—184 9. ibid, pp. 184—185 10. ibid, pp. 195

ant must make to advance further. When occult experiences are gifts from a Perfeet Master, they serve the purpose of unveiling much of the hitherto obscured intuition, removing some of the difficul ties leading toward the spiritual path, and filling the aspirant with the great confidence and enthusiasm that are necessary to cope with new requirements at each stage. But the aspirant makes real progress by putting into practice the best intuitions of his heart, not by being the merely passive recipient of occult cx9 “In the hands of the Mas peniences.” ters of spiritual wisdom, occult power is not only safe but has immense capaci ties that can be harnessed in the service

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The Discourses: Seeds of Doubt

by Flagg Kris read the article “Don Stevens Speaks” (LoveStreet LampPost, April-June 1998) with great anticipation, aware of Don’s deep involvement and knowledge of Baba’s major works. When I read the section on the Discourses, my first reaction was to become defensive about his comments on the lack of trust in the th, 7 1987, one-volume edition (the “Sheriar edition” he called it) lie also implied that I personally made changes about which “I [Donj quite frankly don’t know the significance After some time my mood changed to distress and a kind of sadness: here

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we were, after almost LI years, still ques tioning and doubting. As the article said, people say “(From the audience) ‘Don’t trust the Sheriar edition’ Then an obvious solution to this situa tion occurred to me: Read the editors’ Foreword! After rereading the Foreword ed. several times, it seemed to the clearlythebestrebuttal. Everything that Eruch, Bal and I did is given in great detail, including the philosophy of our approach and the reasons for a revised edition of the Discourses The follow ing are two excerpts from the Foreword to exemplify these points: .

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Avatar Meher Baba’s Last Warning to those who love Him, obey Him and all who would want to do so

by Meher Baba through Adi K. Irani; July 1968 Baba wants all His lovers to know that:

This is a very critical period of the Avataric Age and all his lovers must strive to their utmost to hold his daaman very firmly so that it does not slip out of their hands under any cireumstanees.

It is very important for all his byers, especially in this critical period not to succumb to lust. Temptations are and will be great, but your love for him should be greater. Remember him wholeheartedly and rise swiftly from where you have fallen to march ahead in his love & service.

It is equally important at this eritical 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 Babalover must never mix such piety with the Divinity of the Avatar!

A true Baba-lover must remember the repeated warning given to all Babalovers 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 Perfeet 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. his lovers and workers should not get intimately involved with the family af-

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fairs of one another, and they should not be emotionally upset by the personal affairs concerning any of their families. They should NOT let any personal affairs vitiate their relationships with one another, or affect their efforts in the work they do for the cause of Truth. lIe wants Ilis lovers and workers who are spreading his message of Love to others, to share his love among themselves and to uphold the spirit of harmony and understanding in Ills name. lie wants them to be less aggressive toward others and less tol erant towards themselves; and above all lIe wants them to love him wholeheartedly for lie is the Ancient One who loves them more than they can ever love themselves.

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Over the years, readers made inquiries about various points in the Discourses and asked Meher Baba and His close disciples for clarifications. The problems of misinter pretations and the possible need for revisions were addressed by Mani (Manija S. Irani), Meher Baba’s sister, in a letterthat appeared in TheAwakener(vol. 3, no. 1 1 955): ‘There are those who believe thatliterally every word in the original Discourses is Baba’s and are reluctant to accept any revised version; but actually, though Baba dictated for hours on the board, Professor Deshmukh embellished and worked up the points. Though Deshmukh has undoubtedly done brilliant work in many places we feel there are many places where simplification of sentence structure or correc tion of grammar would enhance the beauty and simplicity which are the essence of Baba’s teachings.

Now we find there are places in the original Discourses where Deshmukh obviously misinterpreted the point, with the re suIt that there are several impor tant errors This quotation is given here, not to disparage Dr. Deshmukh or in any way minimize his and the other editors’ monumental work, but to indicate thatthe original edition ofthe Dis courses did contain some stylis tic problems and points that needed rectification.

spelling, capitalization, use of italics, punc tuation, and so forth.

Once the decision was made that a re vised edition was needed, it was decided that the text should be gone over as carefully as possible. As mentioned earlier, Meher Baba’s explanations had become more detailed and profound over the years, as He expanded and further elucidated many points. For instance, terms that had been used in their broadest sense were redefined to become more specific—often coming to mean only

The Seventh Edition When the sixth edition was almost out of print, the Avatar Meher Baba Perpetual Public Chari table Trust made plans to have the Discourses republished. At first it was planned to simply re print the text as it appeared in the sixth edition; thus the initial emphasis was on completing the supplementary material to be added: a new introduction, a glossary, and an index. But it soon became clearthat some textual changes would have to be made. In the years since the 1967 edition, additional inquiries had accumulated, and some points needed further clarification. As translations were being prepared for French, German, Italian, and Spanish editions, linguistic as well as textual questions came up. It also became apparent that stylistic changes had to be made. The individual discourses, it must be remembered, appeared over a period of years, mostly as journal articles—which inadvertently resulted in inconsistencies in

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two or so years, we went over every word and line and inset heading of the text: Eruch and Bal deliberating over every meaning and nuance, seeking pre cision and clarity; I checking every aspect of capitalization, punctuation, grammar, italics, spelling, and so on. The last two years, while I was out of India, were the page-proof years.

By that time the text was set. Of course there were still minor correc tions during that time, mostly of a stylistic nature. Due to the great distances between me in Kuwait, Eruch and Bal in India, and Sheriar Press in Myrtle Beach, there were some over changes in the frus trating times of mis-, non-, and slow communications (I’m still upset with Sheriar’s change of format of the Glos sary). however, these prob lems were mostly changes due to type and page size and page-proof corrections and mailings, and nothing to do with Baba’s textual content.

And it is true that very few of these types of changes were cleared with Eruch and Bal on individual bases. On visits, general approaches were dis ‘ cussed and agreements reached. All of this does not provide Baba-lover readers with an “escape hatch,” as Don said, for distrusting or th doubting the 7 edition. The Foreword excerpt below de scribes my responsibilities: .

Meher Baba

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one aspect of a larger concept they had earher encompassed. Meher Baba unfolded the divine theme, in God Speaks and through discussions with His close disciples, to an audience now ready to understand and ac cept ideas and concepts of greater profun dity.

My role in the revision (other than that of secretary) is also specifically dis cussed in the Foreword. I had no au thority or intention to change Baba’s words or teachings. We worked on the revision for over four years. For the first

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Because people are often wary of any change in a work such as the Discourses, which is much studied and often reread, the editors thought it best to al lay any fears of massive revisions by speci fying just how the editing was approached and what types of changes have been made.

The following criteria and guidelines were used: make as few changes as possible; make textual changes only when points conflicted with GodSpeaksor later explanations; change obsolete or archaic words and re phrase awkward sentence structure only when the reader might be misled or confused; and correct stylistic inconsistencies.

The stylistic changes fall into the follow-

ing broad categories: (1) regularizing spelling, hyphenation, grammar, and punctuation, using authoritative style manuals and dictio naries—especially the latest editions of The Chicago ManualofStyle and Websters New Collegiate Dictionary, which were the main sources consulted to achieve editorial uni tormity in usage, style, and form; (2) arriving at a pattern for capitalizing spiritual terms and applying it consistently, except for rare cases of emphasis; (3) adjusting the spelling and form of non-English terms and names to God Speaks usage or other reference sources if appropriate; (4) eliminating most italics, exceptfor their standard use for occasional emphasis and for the first occurrence of non-English words.

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To put all this in perspective, I fondly remember a meeting I had with Mani, Eruch, and Bal at the Trust Office, sev eral years after the publication of the th 7 ed. I cried as I related the years of anger, fears, frustrations, guilt, alienation from Baba and the Baba commu nity I had experienced during and since the Discourses project—having tried to achieve a “perfect” edition. As we dried our tears, they laughed and reminded me that ego-bashing work for Baba never comes out perfectly: only Baba is Perfeet. Then Mani insisted that I unload the whole painful experience on Baba’s Tomb. I did so immediately, and though scarred, I’m much lighter of spirit.

The reason for this article and my message to the Baba family is: Do not allow seeds of doubt to be planted in your minds and hearts about what is now TIlE edition of Baba’s Discourses.

I close with the final paragraph of the Foreword, but please note that Eruch and Bal had nothing to do with this ar tide: The editors have taken great care to see that the meaning behind the words of Meher Baba in the text remained unchanged when making any revisions. All the efforts of the editors are offered to Meher Baba in surrenderance to His will and pleasure, and it is hoped that Meher Baba Himself will help each reader understand the meaning He wished to convey through His Discourses.

The Editors Meherazad, India Eruch B. Jessawala, J. Flagg Kris, Bal Natu 1986

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Continuity of Life

by Avatar Meher Baba he overwhelming importance of death is derived from man’s attachment to particular forms. But death loses much of its sting and im portance, even for the worldly, if one takes a broader view of the course of life. In spite of the transitoriness, there is an unbroken continuity of life through these forms—old ones being discarded and new ones being created for habitatin and expression. The recurring incidence of death is matched by the recurring incidence ofbirth. Old generations are replaced by new ones; life is reborn in new forms, incessantly renewing and re freshing itself. The streams of life, with their ancient origin, are ever advancing onward through the forms that come and go like the waves of the ocean.

Discourses, 7th ed. pg. 302 ©I987AMBPPCT

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clockwisefrom above: Janani Lee, Danny Maguire & Josh Lee have fun painting the eggs. Janani helps hide the eggs. Danny Maguire wins first prize for the most inventively colored egg.

“Whenever people call Me I listen, but not so much as I do to children. Grown-up persons call Me a lot, they cry and they weep, but at times I remain as if I’m deaf. But if children call Me softly, I listen immediately to their sweet voices. My ears are very sharp to their call. Why is this so? Because I am so close to you and with you.”

—Avatar Meher Baba Letters From the Mandali, Vol. II pp. 151-152 ed Jim Mistry, 1983 © AMBPPCT

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From the Love Street Bookstore

...continuedfrom insidefront cover

Mehera and Mani take up half the book, and the remainder consists of one chapter each for the other eight mandali.

Within these covers I believe you will find all you ever wanted to know about Mehera, Mani, Goher, Meheru, Katie, Arnavaz, Mansari, Rano, Korshed and Naja.

The book is roughly 8 ½ x 1 1 spiral bound, and has an attractive laminated cover featuring color photographs of each of the women mandali. The 180 pages are in clear type and photocop ied on good white paper, and include a giossary, a detailed general index, and an index to the captions of the stories, anecdotes and comments by each of the women. The book is equivalent to around 400 pages of a normal paperback edition. $17 We had an advance of only five copies brought over from Australia for us, and they flew off the shelves as soon as I put them out; so alas, we have no cover to show you! however, we do have for you an excerpt of her story on Mani on page 28.

Judith has previously written two little booklets entitled A Garland for Avatar Meher Baba vols. one and two.

In them she tells of times with Mehera and how the beloved of the Beloved would show her love for him in a thousand ways each day. They are beauti fully produced booklets, each having a sumptuous color painting of Baba by Diana LePage on the cover. $4 each. ,

any years ago Pascal Kaplan wrote a very informative little book called Understanding Death. It draws upon knowledge given by Baba and general research by Pascal. It can be a very cornforting book to give friends who may not

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film that is often shown in the Pil rim Center is the beautiful Meher Baba in Italy. With a gentle classical music background and an easy-on-theear narration, it tells of the places in Italy visited by Baba. The cinematogra pher has so cleverly mixed today’s footage of the breathtakingly beautiful Portofino and other locations in Italy with stills of Baba and his companions from the ‘30s that it flows seamlessly from one scene to the next. You are not really aware that you are not seeing live footage of Baba. The video is approxi mately 45 minutes. $35.

closer. perhaps by Christmas? hermes tells us that Volumes XIIIJ XIV of the great Lord Meher biography series could well be out by Christmas.

It will have about 700 pages and over 150 photographs. hopefully it will be available for the usual $80.

Bill Stephens is on a roll! Last year’s release, Footprints in the Sand, was a very popular book. Now Bill tells us that he is readying his next book for a Christmas release. More about it in the Octo ber issue.

The book that I know will be the year’s best seller is the Mani dream boCK. Over the latter years of her life, Baba had sent her what she felt were many very profound dreams. She told them often in Mandali hall, but as the end of her life with us was drawing to a close she made a heroic effort to put them all down for us in a book. She chose Wodin to illustrate these dreams—the artist who drew the delightfully whimsical sketches for her book, God-Brother.

Wodin has been working on this project for almost two years, Sheriar Founda tion is publishing it, and it will be ready

by Christmas. It wifi be hard-bound with lavish full-color artwork; but beyond that, I have no details other than that the official title is Dreaming of The Beloved. Watch this column for details!

e also have five new books to look forward to. Bal Natu has followed up his latest release, Samadhi, with Intimate Conversations with the Awak ener. This completes the trilogy of the Conversations series. Sheriar tells us it will be out in time for Christmas.

We also hear from Sheriar that the re-release date of Love Alone Prevails, Kitty Davy’s great book, comes ever

or the October issue I will be repeating last year’s very successful listing of the Bookstore Best Sellers. This way you can make your choices for holiday gift giving andlet us do the workfor you.

Looks like there will be a great new Selection to choose from!

That’s it for now folks, hope to see a lot of you at the Sahavas. If not. see you in the Bookstore.

even believe in reincarnation, let alone Baba ! If they are facing the death of a loved one, or even their own, this book will help them to be better prepared.

Paperback, $5. e had been out of Jamie Newell’s tapes for a while now, but we have just received a large shipment. Seeing as he is the musical guest for the L.A. Sahavas, they will go fast there, but we will reserve some for our mail order cus tomers. Jamie is our most prolific producer of Baba musical tapes and we stock five of them: IDreamed I Saw My Savior, The Second Coming, Window To God, Zen and the Art of Blues, and Blues is My Business. All are $10 each.

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AVATAR MEHER BABA CENTER OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA

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