Davis Taylor

2013 © Davis Taylor


My wife, Becky McDowell, and I made a ten day retreat at Meher Spiritual Center in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, from October 11 to October 21, 2013. On our first morning after arrival, I walked the quarter mile through the forest out to the barn where Meher Baba on His three visits to the Center met with groups of His followers and lovers for discourses, skits, plays, and dances. The barn continues to hold a special spiritual charge for me and many others. It's easy to feel close to Meher Baba there.

I had brought with me a notebook and pen, for I was planning after a brief stay in the barn to continue out to the ocean where I was hoping I might be struck with some poetic inspiration. I wasn't planning on writing in the barn, just on sitting quietly with Baba. I even felt that to write in the barn would be disrespectful of its sacredness. After sitting for a few minutes, I felt a strong impulse that I should open my notebook and write down whatever came to me. Thus began my sessions in the barn of recording whatever Meher Baba seemed to be saying to me every morning and afternoon of our stay.


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DAY 10
70 71 72 73

Do not ask to know my will.
Come, be washed in the ocean of my love.

Give yourself to me.
I will take you through the halls of unknowing to my throne.

See: there is nothing to see.
Hear: there is nothing to hear.
Wings of light.

You must be invisible while showing up so people can see me.
You must be silent while speaking so people can hear me.

Do not cast aside the strength that I am.
Do not make yourself small. You contain all.

There is no beginning and no ending.
There is only you becoming me.

Stop where you are.
You can come no closer than I am.

Although I am within you, I am not comprehensible.
Although I am beyond you, I am intimately known.

(10/12/13, a. m.)

Although I am silent,
why would you think I have nothing to say?

I love you.
Why are you wanting more?

You long for me within your heart although I'm there.
Ah, what games I play!

You know what I am up to
and yet are powerless over me.

You know what I am up to?
Oh, how you fool yourself.

Why do you worry about your health?
You are in my hands.

If you trusted me, you wouldn't feel so tired.
I step into your life and you look away.

Where are you going?
Ah, finally you're here.

(10/12, p. m.)

I saw you at the door.
Your heart was bursting to enter and mine to let you in.

How dark it is today inside the barn,
how light when you look up and see my face.

You've settled in.
Be glad that you are comfortable.

Pray for Bhauji. I made him suffer
to draw him close to me.

I am different with everyone
and always the same: infinite love.

Come. Sit with me.
You too shall melt away.

One touch of my hand and suffering ends.
One touch of my hand and longing begins.

With each wave of longing, you diminish
and your capacity for love grows more.

It's I whom you are hearing.
O lover, do not doubt.

Be at peace. Don't hunger for my words
but for my silence.

Davis, another child of mine has entered here.
See how my presence deepens in your heart.

(10/12, p. m.)

I'm always nudging you to listen.
Then, and only then, are you at ease.

Look for me in everyone yet see them too.
Don't let them disappear.

Look up in the hickory tree. Each leaf is different,
but all shall fall to me.

Silence cushions your thoughts.
You will not lose me in the silence.

Oh, you are forgetting to breathe.
As in sleep, I am doing it for you.

Hickory nuts rattling down the roof.
I'm entertaining you.

A smile? A laugh?
I was getting worried about you.

Be natural. Be human.
That's spiritual enough.

No, you don't need to get up.
Just give yourself to me,

and don't be embarrassed about writing down my words.
That's what my lovers did and still do.

(10/12, p. m.)

Listen to me.
Do not worry about what you might say in return.

I am God Almighty, the Ruler of heaven and earth.
Share in my glory. Set yourself aside for me.

Where you are, I am not.
Where I am, you are.

There's a quality in my voice that's different from your own.
You can feel it in your heart.

Why do you doubt what you hear?
Give yourself to me.

I am more loving than you, infinitely more loving.
Your judgments do no good. I am beyond judgment.

The lousy singer is a lousy singer.
Let me judge his heart.

O Davis, rejoice that you are here with me.
Let all else go.

(10/13, a. m.)

I hear you cry.
For whom do you cry? I love you all.

Look at my handiwork.
O, you see so little of what I do.

You cannot see me by your eyes.
You must see me by mine.

I bow to you.
You bow at my chair, but do you bow to me?

I am here.
I am the dark presence full of light.

I am the mass of darkness crossing the room.
Let me envelop you.

I take away your breath and give you mine.
Now you are the trees weeping outside.

Now you are the cardinal, the ant, the squirrel.
Now you are everything.

It's your birthday.
Yes, I have not forgotten.

Forget your birthday.
You are the traffic humming down the road.

You are the sky.
You are the cyclone smashing Calcutta.

O Davis, you are me.
For me, do not cry.

(10/13, a. m.)

Do not think for a moment that you can give yourself to me.
You do not have that power.

I chip away at you.
Why? I love you.

There is no cruelty in my play.
Pain? Yes, but I am never cruel.

You forget me so easily
that I must bring you back through pain.

Remember me every moment.
Like now, in the barn, think only of me.

You know that I am all.
Still, you must remember me in all.

Then you will see me.
Then seeing me is all that you will do.

Then, when I snap my fingers,
you'll be me.

I take you.
You cannot give yourself to me.

(10/13, a. m.)

If you want me, you must let go of lust.
Taste of my bliss. It is far more than any kiss.

What is bliss?
It's being nothing and everything.

You think it has something to do with death.
It does, but not like sex.

You give and give and give.
There is no end to your giving. That is bliss.

Bliss is the wind in the trees,
the rain thrashing the roof.

Bliss is being as natural as these
without a thought of oneself.

Bliss is total absorption in work.
Bliss is total absorption in giving.

Bliss is listening to me, like now.
There is no lust in bliss.

(10/13, a. m.)

I speak clearly.
Don't puzzle over what you hear.

I am alone with you.
I am alone with everyone who stops to listen.

It can't be otherwise.
All are one in me, alone.

Take my quietude out with you.
Invite the world into the quiet of your heart.

Then all is calm.
The siren's wail cannot disturb the peaceful heart.

I am here. Drive no one out.
Invite all in.

I know you love to be alone with me.
Today, you share the barn with others dear to me.

Can you still hear?
Of course you can.

In every heart I wait.
In every heart I am.

Don't puzzle over what you hear.
I am alone with you.

(10/13, p. m.)

You can only hear me where you are,
so there's no need to journey far.

It's true that where I've set my feet,
there is a heightened energy.

The sun shall fade, the earth pass on,
but still I am.

Barn, Samadhi, Avatar's Abode
are all eternal, all part of me.

Not cinders, they are eternal fire.
Come closer and be burnt away.

I know that you have lost your place.
You cannot follow now my line of thought.

I have to translate to make things clear for you.
I do not think I am.

I do not think.
I am.

The word is you.
The word is me.

Do not puzzle.
Let all be


(10/13, p. m.)

Don't worry.
I'm taking you along the path.

Don't struggle to protect yourself.
You can't. I can.


This is all I ask of you:
think always of me.

When you amuse yourself, a book, TV,
you lose the chance to be with me.

Sometimes, I give you a break, time off, but always ask.
It hurts my heart when you just go.

It hurts yours too.
The ache you feel inside is grief for all the time
you've spent away from me.

As a child, you found me in the apple trees,
young man, in love,

and now you're old, take my hand
and let yourself be pulled to me.

I am the Avatar,
mother, father God.

I'm always moving in the quietude.
Come, lay your head upon my knee.

When we're this close,
you can dissolve in me,

and like the constellations flow,
and like the flowers grow,

just by being me.

(10/13, p. m.)

I know you think it's silly to pray
because I know your every wish, your every thought.

Pray all the same.
Here's why.

Pray for others. Such prayer strengthens love
and brings both them and you closer to me.

Pray for peace, and as you pray,
surrender to my will.

Pray for guidance. I'm here.
Your prayer tightens the bond between us.

Pray to know me.
In time, you will.

Pray for release from time and space.
I feel you hesitate. That's why I keep you here
to dwindle away.

Pray to know and do my will.
Pray to remember me.

Pray for help to love me more and more,
to hold my daaman.

Pray to remember me before all doing
that I might act, not you.

Pray in thanks for food,
shelter, warmth, good health.

Pray for forgiveness and reconciliation,
for cheerfulness with all.

Pray for forbearance.
Pray not to judge.

Pray to be generous.
Pray to serve without thought of self.

Pray for my love and grace,
to be rich in these.

Pray from abundance, not from want.
Pray til every thought's a prayer.

Pray constantly
and then for sure you'll be with me.

(10/13, p. m.)

Listen, listen with all your heart and soul and mind.
When you listen, just listen, you are effaced
and there is only me.

You know the words are true when surroundings slip away,
when all creation is spinning from you and slides away.

Do not try to hear me. Just hear.
Do not answer, argue, question. You get in the way.

I know your every thought.
Why speak except to pray?

Silence is love's voice.
Tears are love's language.

Song is my breathing in you.
Poetry is my stepping through you.

Still, silence is best.
In silence, you hear me most clearly.

In silence, you return to me.
In silence, I carry you into the light.

(10/14, a. m.)

I notice how alertly you wait for me.
Every cell in your body hums.

You can scarcely breathe.
Each breath is on the edge of a sob.

I am noticing. I am speaking to you,
and still you wait as anxiously as when, young,
you waited for your lover.

I am pleased. I am pleased that you love me so,
although I chuckle, for here I am.

I am with you. You know that I am with you,
and still you wait.

Yes, come to me.
Rise up from your chair.

Throw yourself across the rug.
Surrender to me.

It feels so good to move, to come to me.
Then come.


You've come.
You've stretched yourself upon the floor before my chair.

I am there too, but now that you are back in your chair,
once again listening, waiting, longing,
am I not more present to you?

It's in my perceived absence
that I am most present to you.

It's in the listening, the longing that you find me in every
humming cell,
for I'm not out there, but I'm in you.

(10/14, a.m.)

You long to bring me to others.
You long for the world to wake to me.

When you awaken, all awaken.
I've told you this before. Why can't you believe?

True, you can't believe because you're not really awake.
You cannot understand what is veiled to you,

and so you long for all the world to wake
while you slumber on.

Wake up, wake up, wake up,
I hear you cry to everyone.

Be happy. Be cheerful.
Love me thus.

You'll be met by smiles
I'll be met by smiles through you.

Wake up to laughter.
Wake up to you and me.

In a laughing world — not satirical, the laughter
of abounding joy and grace—
in such a world, there'd be no hunger or war.

Love comes through laughter.
Nestle in my arms and have a laugh.

(10/14, a. m.)

I hear you say my name,
"Baba, Baba, Baba,"

but I signed my name, M. S. Irani.
Who is Baba?

I am your father, your mother, your beloved.
I am your Self.

I am God.
I am named Ezad, the only one worthy of worship.

I am Baba.
Remember how I signed my name.

Who are you?
Are you the name you sign?

Be nameless.
When you have no name, I will name you.

How will you know?
By listening to me.

(10/14, a. m.)

You complained when I had nothing to say to you,
and now you ache from all the words that I am speaking,
streaming through you.

O scribe, don't complain.
I'm dictating. Am I complaining?

Dictating… Dictator… I'm laughing.
I've never thought of myself as a dictator before.

You've given God a laugh.
I feel as though I'm coming up with something new.

Guess what? That's why you're here, you and everyone:
to please me, to keep me laughing and new.

The Ageless, Endless One, that's me
who keeps fresh and new in each of you.

Dictation. Dictator.
Don't worry. I am ever merciful,

although you will not know my mercy unless you listen
with all your heart and soul and mind.

I cry with you. I laugh with you.
I'm most myself in being you,

and so I bow to you, stretch out before you.
Don't be alarmed.

I kiss your feet. Don't cry.
I am breaking us up with tears and laughter.

Broken up, we will be closer
every after.

(10/14, a. m.)

It is always I, Davis. It is never you,
and when you think it's you, you're dreaming.

You may read out what I say,
but as you read, remember, it is I reading.

You are fiction. I am real.
Take in this truth and you will cease to be.

The process—love me constantly.
Think of me constantly.

Look for me constantly.
Hear me constantly.

There is only I.
I am reality.

If someone praises you, give the praise to me.
If someone criticizes you, give the criticism to me.

I will only criticize you for forgetting me.
Don't accept criticism for anything else.

I perfect you through love. Is my love harsh?
They are dreaming who think it is.

Find my kindness in everything and you will find me.
Find my kindness in yourself and you will be me.

(10/14, p. m.)

Liking, disliking—these are the splinters of you.
I say, go beyond liking into love.

Where there's love, there's no you involved.
There's only I.

You don't need to love.
Let me love.

When you love, you still want to be noticed and praised.
When I love, you're not there.

Long for me. Long for my pleasure and will.
By longing, you prepare yourself for love.

When you are tired, long for me.
You will find me sitting with you, talking to you.

Listen to the complaints, sadness, and misery of others,
but don't be fooled.
I am still there. In that other, grieving one, listen to me.

I am there. I am always there.
I am the ocean of love in you and everyone.

I am infinite in you and your neighbor.
I am infinite because I am.

There is no end to my loving.
O Davis, don't be fooled.

You draw sufferers to yourself?
I draw them to me.

Don't think you love.
I do.

Don't think,
and there I am.

(10/14, p. m.)

I like how you are listening.
I like that you are listening to me.

I find no topics inside of you.
I find no questions waiting for an answer.

I find that you are at ease with me, with yourself.
You hear the birds, the cawing of the crow.

He too is happy, and the beetle you didn't squish,
he's delighted

Be delighted too, be at ease.
You comfort me when you're at ease.

When you become me, you'll discover there is no step
you have to take, so you'll never stumble or fall.

Things go on.
Doing happens.

It's funny, when you become me,
you'll delight in everyone you've left behind.

You'll be calling to them.
You'll long for them even more than you now long for me.

You'll love them even as I now love you,
more than you can imagine,

and with all this longing and loving, you'll be at ease.
Practice now—infinite longing, infinite ease.

Be happy in my love.
I am happy in you.

(10/14, p. m.)

I know you do not understand my love for you.
It is beyond measure, imagination, conception.

It cannot be tasted, it cannot be held,
it can only be given.

That is why, when you are with me,
you feel the whole world flowing out of you.

That is love flowing out of you.
Creation is love.

Destruction is love also.
It clears away the old, makes space for the new.

You must listen harder, without fear.
Fear sets off the mind, love the heart.

Real creation comes from the heart.
The mind tinkers with it afterwards.

The mind is good for polishing,
the heart for pouring out the molten iron.

When others come into the barn,
open your heart, let them in.

Love's creation is infinite.
There is room for all.

Have no fear.
I am always with you.

Live from your heart.
I am always with you.

Let the past and future go.
I am always with you.

I am love.
I am the source of your truth and being.

There is nothing before or after me.
There is only me.

Don't be afraid.
There is only love.

(10/15, a. m.)

A runner has dropped in to pay me a visit.
That's sweet, isn't it?

I delight when lovers drop in to say hello.
I am infinitely available.

Of course, I am lucky.
They bring me their Selves, their deepest beings.

I know. You have little patience with small talk.
I don't care. Let them chatter.

In time, because I love them, they open up.
You might do the same.

Even as you listen to me—can you see?—
you are opening up.

Do I chatter? O, I love to chatter,
to drive you whacky so you'll just listen,
your mind aside, your heart alive.

Think of all those hours I spent playing cards.
Would you come to me to play cards?

Yes, I see you would,
and now the tears flow down your cheeks.

You are making space for me just as I am.
O Davis, do the same for all.

(10/15, a. m.)

What is age? I am ageless.
You are all children to me.

It amuses me that you think you know who you are.
My job—to show you that you don't.

You are good? You are bad?
You are neither of these.

You are beyond good and bad.
You are infinite soul.

Your spirits come and go
like bees sipping nectar.

You get drunk on your being,
fly back to the hive, discharge the fruit of knowing.

Well, if you turn off the TV,
set down the newspaper,

but your lives are so cluttered,
you seldom taste who you are.

Perhaps in the hospital?
No, not even there.

O Davis, rejoice in the barn,
in sitting here with me, listening.

I fill you with honey,
with sweetness almost unbearable.

When you can take no more,
I send you on your way.

I am glad you come back.
I am glad to be with you, glad for your awareness of me.

(10/15, a. m.)

You have no need to leave this place.
You would be happy here with me,

but I am sending you forth again.
Yes, I want the world to know who I am.

That's why I came.
O my lovers, tell the good news.

Christ has come again. Krishna is with you.
The Buddha sits across the room, prankster.

But don't build me temples outside your heart.
If a shrine, hide it in some corner of your home.

Hang my picture where you live and work.
Don't be embarrassed to know me.

I use you to bring lovers to me.
A pander? Yes, be a pander for God,

but don't expect pay or title or priesthood.
Be done with such nonsense.

I am the one.
I'm in charge.

Bring all conflicts to me, listen.
I'll sort things out,

and forget your pasts, your envies, jealousies, conflicts.
Carrying all that around, how can you be happy in my love.

It's your happiness that calls others to me.
O Davis, be happy.

Like now, bursting with happiness,
bursting with me.

(10/15, a. m.)

I am all merciful and my justice is merciful.
I see from the beginning to the end.

The law of nature is just.
I draw each and every soul to me.

I am beginning and end and eternal now.
Over and over I have come to you. I am not apart.

You are upset, I know.
I can feel your heart closing to my words.

You do not understand.
You remember Auschwitz, Hiroshima, Nagasaki,
Rwanda, Somalia, China, the partition of India.

I remember too. I am in all beings.
I suffer on the road as I bring all to me.

You have suffered.
Where was I then?

You lay your hands on those who suffer.
Where am I then?

You let their suffering into your heart.
My dear, whose heart?

Do not set yourself apart from me.
I long for you.

Are you special? Of course,
but even as I long for you, I long for everyone.

I am the lion and the wildebeest.
I eat and I am eaten.

I strike and I am struck.
I am the scales, I am the balance.

At the end, there is only light, only love.
At the end, I am beginning and end.

My justice is law.
My justice is everlasting.

(10/15, p. m.)

My dear, do not judge my words.
Listen, take them in.

As you sit in the green, wing-backed chair,
you feel the barn, the world shaking around you.

Your body too shakes and sways.
This substantial world, it is like a flag in the breeze.

It is cloth. It is not even cloth.
It is not even breeze.

Stop imagining.
There is only my word.

I speak,
and you disappear.

Who is in the chair?
You can't answer.

You must write down
what I say. It is I.

Allow yourself to be who I am,
who you are.

I am happy to be you.
I am happy to direct your every thought, movement,
word, and act.

O my beloved, I am longing for you.
Isn't that strange?

I am longing.
I am.

I am longing.
I am.

Being is dying through love.
We die together to be who I am: love.

When longing ceases, the universe goes out,
but thirst and hope never die. Longing never dies.

I always am. The floor shakes. The barn shakes.
Universes come and go. I am

(10/15, p. m.)

I don't take you through the planes.
It's all imagination, and you have enough of that.

I am the lost one in the desert.
I am the king in his palace.

I am the ant in the ant hill.
I am the crane crossing the lagoon.

I am alligator. I am water moccasin.
I am cold lizard.

There is such abundance on this plane,
why would you go elsewhere?

Receive me in all that is
and you will be all that is.

I am the woman in black who is sitting now by your feet,
telling beads, saying my name.
Do not want her to move away.

Be glad that she has come.
You both look to me.

When minds are focused on me,
hearts beat together.

Your fingers now are counting the beads.
A hundred, a thousand times you say my name.

Say it with her.
I sit in silence with you.

You do not know her name.
I do.

I love names and the truth beyond names.
I love. That's all that matters.

(10/15, p. m.)

I first drew you to me through your suffering.
Now, I draw you through pure delight.

In delight, there's less of you, more of me.
That makes us both happy.

Think well of Danny.* He's busting his butt
to delight the world and bring all to me.

I want you all to lighten up.
My pen pal, how serious you are.

Develop your funny bone.
Learn to tell a joke.

I'm not kidding.
I want you to study the light side.

It's not natural to you?
Come on. Here's a cosmic joke:

I'm in the nastiest bloke.
Put down the news. Pick up the comic page.

Trust that I know.
Who play-acts for me loses his ego.

You in particular, my serious lover,
the moment I'm silent, tell a joke or two.

Ole and Lena?
That's fine.

*Danny Ladinsky

(10/15, p. m.)

You are my beloved child.
Do my will.

You will miss nothing.
Nothing happens. I am all.

Forget what the world says that you should do.
Forget what my lovers say that you should do.

Forget your conscience.
I am deeper than conscience.

When you surrender to my will, you are at peace.
Don't be disturbed. Don't worry.

I care for you.
I keep you on the straight path which is invisible even to you.

I know it.
I am your guide.

If you progress on your own, you will soon be lost.
In the face of the world, you have nothing to say
about movies, travel, music.

I have made you dull to all but me.
Here with me you shine.

I am making you into my temple.
You do not need to travel.

You are my child.
I delight in you.

Don't be afraid to delight in yourself.
Egoless is such delight.

Through it people see me.
Then people delight in me.

There is no end to such bliss.
I love you, my dear. I love you.

(10/16, a. m.)

I am speaking to you, Davis.
Write down what I say. Pass it on.

I am dictating to you, Davis, and to all the world.
Be here. Keep your ego out of the way.

Your ego is funny. I hear you say,
"I am not worthy of this task,"

and then another part of you, admit it, says,
"How wonderful all this is. To listen to God."

It is wonderful. That's it.
Delight in the wonder of God without getting in God's way.

When you are present, you feel too small or too grand.
You swerve from modesty to hubris.

Forget the ego self. Just listen to me.
I am who I am.

I am in the desert.
I am in the forest.

I am in the ocean.
I am in all of these.

When you let go of yourself,
you are in all of these.

There is no center to your awareness.
It is everywhere and nowhere.

It is spread evenly.
It is inside and outside of you.

In this decenteredness,
you get a hint of who I am.

I am as easily sitting in the chair as you are.
I took on your limitations so you might know
my limitlessness.

Who are you?
Do not ask and you will know.

(10/16, a. m.)

You help others by listening to me.
Don't assume that you know what they need.

Your child is unhappy. Listen to me.
Give him over to me.

He's not your responsibility.
I will tell you what to say and do.

Then do it. Don't question.
Don't add or subtract.

Leave your child to me,
your friend, your wife, the client at your door.

Some days, you will think I'm niggardly in what I give.
You would give more.

Other days, I will shock you,
asking from you large gifts of time or money.

If you try to figure me out,
you'll make yourself miserable.

Just do as I say.
Listen to me.

Listen to your heartbeat, your breath.
I am always speaking. You can always hear.

When you give me all,
you know peace.

I, not you, am responsible for all,
even your child.

(10/16, a. m.)

You feel alone this morning in the barn.
My dear, I am with you.

Do not hide from your aloneness.
Do not criticize yourself for being alone.

Enter you solitude.
Feel it open.

See me standing at the temple door.
Reach out your hand.

We enter together your aloneness.
It is the void of my vastness.

In its absolute quiet,
I whisper to you.

You don't catch the words.
I am as wordless as the breeze.

The roads outside still hum.
Do not listen to them.

A bird chirps.
Forget it also.

I am taking you farther into me.
In me, you dissolve.

The barn dissolves, the earth dissolves.
I dissolve.

I feel you still listening.
I feel you still longing for me.

But who is longing now for whom?
Don't object to becoming me.

See, you tried to speak,
but you have lost your voice.

The world is mine.
The word is mine.

And now be silent,
with me, in me, alone.

(10/16, a. m.)

Say my name.
Let go of all else.

Let go of thoughts.
They are worries.

Let go of desires.
They hide your emptiness.

Let go of struggle.
You are here.

Let go of sin, despair, unhappiness,
seeds of separation.

Let go of all you know, of memory.
Let go of being you.

Let go of me.
When all is gone, I am.

(10/16, p. m.)

I fill the empty one
and empty the one who is full.

You have been both,
so why do you doubt?

Even in this lifetime, you have been full of yourself,
and by my grace, you are becoming empty
so I may fill you with my love and grace.

I do so now.
Don't fear this change.

You're like a light bulb
that's dead to the world's currents.

With me, you blaze.
Do you still want to be seen?

O lover, let go of being seen.
Let go of being heard.

In your dark invisibility,
I will appear. I do appear.

In your silence, I speak.
Lovers, obey.

Do not fear being mine.
I protect you with angels' wings.

One look in your eyes, the thief recoils.
Anyways, you have nothing for him.

Write it down: I am happy with you.
Don't worry. Be happy in my love.

(10/16, p. m.)

I know you want me to talk
about how being perfectly human, perfectly natural,
is the highest form of spirituality.

Here's the reason why.
To be naturally human is to be spontaneous.

What's spontaneous?

All else is colored with thought,
thoughts of the best approach, the best means,

thoughts about results,
the approval of others, the attainment of wealth.

Love gives itself.
It doesn't care. It just happens.

It is most natural and spontaneous, the goal of being human,
and therefore most perfectly human.

It is also most spiritual.
What is spirit?

It is connection to the highest.
It is the link between consciousness and highest Self.
It is the link to God.

And what runs through this link? Love.
Love is the current of connection. Love charges the spirit.

When fully in love, one is most spontaneous,
natural, and human.
Then one is with God.

Thus, to be perfectly natural and human
is to be most spiritual.

(10/16, p. m.)

Ah, my beloved, you have exhausted the ink in your pen,
and now you're worried that the ink in this second pen
will run dry.

I love your worries. They tickle me, for you
are worrying about the pen running dry, not about me having
nothing to say.

I shall not run dry.
Out of nothing, I am forever flowing.

I bloom in your nothingness.
In the desert of your being, I am the spring of eternal life.

Who are you?
You're not your body or mind. Don't limit yourself.

You're not even your breath.
I am your breath.

Your breath does not cease with death.
It draws back into your soul.

It carries on the impressions of this life....
Davis, you've stopped listening. You are anticipating,
trying to get it right.

To begin again: Your breath does not end with death.
It comes to me.

Full of impressions or impressionless, I receive you
even as I received my lovers in mandali hall.

I greet you. You'll know me even as I know you.
You'll lay your head in my lap.

I'll twitch your ear and caress your cheek.
Then I'll send you off again or I'll keep you with me.

Whichever, all will be well.
You and I are in love eternally.

(10/16, p. m.)

How can I be present for all when they die?
How can I be present for all when they're alive?

I am infinite. I am within all,
the Self in every finite self.

When you die, I appear as I am to you,
as you conceive me, for the eye by which you see me
is the eye by which I see you,

and more, infinitely more.
I will appear as you expect,

and more than you expect,
but still recognizable,

as Mohammed, Christ, the Buddha, Krishna, Ram, Zoroaster,
as Sky Father, Earth Mother, Great Spirit, as I am to you,

and to you, Davis, as Meher Baba,
but still more glorious than you can imagine.

I take each into my arms,
bless each, and send them on

down the path of dreams
to awaken someday as I AM

when we will be together, not two, not one,
as Being, as Infinite Consciousness,

in which individuality continues, for I delight in all
and am eager to hear the stories of all,

the jokes, plays, poems, songs, and games.
Before then, I send forth each as part of me
on my work, our work,

to waken humanity
and ease the passing on of souls.

(10/17, a. m.)

Do not doubt my love.
If you doubt my love, you doubt me.

Your doubt will bring you sadness, grief, misery, and
Your belief, whether in easy or hard times, will bring you joy,
comfort, ease, and closeness to me.

I promise the end of ignorance, the wakening to truth,
but my promise depends on your belief.

I seek your belief and love.
Through these, I can speak to you.

If you doubt the word arriving from your heart,
you will lose your way,

but you must be honest.
If you don't believe, do not pretend that you do.

If you nourish your disbelief, you will become conscious
of me all the same,
for fighting me, you will come to know me, and fighting
yourself, you will come to know your Self.

In the end, I will win. In the meantime, I cherish your disbelief,
but I cherish you more and am eager for you to set aside
your disbelief and come to me,

not as my foes but as my lovers,
not reluctantly but spontaneously because, in your misery,
you've remembered me.

You will, for I am who you are
from the beginning to the end of time,

and beyond the end,
through eternity,

in the unknowable, unnamable, infinite void
of love's ever flowing perfect light.

(10/17, a. m.)

I'm the King of Hearts.
I trump all cards.

Jacks, aces, jokers
fall to me.

I play by my own rules.
You think I'm cheating, but I'm not.

Illusion's messing with you
but not with me.

Surrender to my rules
and all grows clear.

I always win.
I gather you into my hand.

I shuffle you and deal you out
over and over.

I scatter you across the table
and then I pick you up again.

My game has one end:
that you love me more and more,

and loving me, love others,
without regard for self, result, reward.

Do I play solitaire?
It may seem so, but I don't.

That's a mystery you still don't understand.
Someday, I'll show you.

(10/17, a.m.)

Shall I tell you about space and time?
Ah, you are reluctant to listen, for you know,
here at the start, that you are ignorant.

You've no sense beyond the sun,
that great clock in the sky,

that seems to stand still
when you lose yourself in work, like now,
in listening to me, like now,

and when is now? Is it in time?
How can it be?

You might say that it contains time.
I'd say that it doesn't.

I'd say that time doesn't exist. It's illusion
like the sun and all creation,

yet now exists even as I exist and you exist.
Now alone is.

And what about here? Is here in space?
How can it be?

You might say that here contains space.
I'd say it doesn't.

I'd say that space doesn't exist. It's illusion
whether open or closed or involved, a looping pretzel.

Yet here exists even as I exist and you exist.
Here alone is just as now alone is.

You've put down my words and almost understand.
Stop thinking.

Do I exist? Your heart cries out,
"There is nothing but You, Meher."

I am now.
I am here.

(10/17, a.m.)

O my dears, how lost you've become in yourselves,
even in your experiences of me.

You too, Davis. I am talking to you as well.
You must forget your experiences of me to hear me
in yourself and others.

I am ever fresh. I am ever new.
I am always present.

Tell stories and share these words,
but pause, look around, and sense my presence.

There is always truth beyond what you've experienced
and beyond what you think you know.
That is good news. Otherwise, the past will become a shell
around your hearts.

It is perilous to think: this one was closer to Baba than that,
or this one sees and hears more clearly than that.

All these words that you are writing down, and yes, they
come from me,
are still part of illusion. They are not truth itself which is
beyond words.

No, don't stop listening and writing.
You will blunder and miss the truth.

I am forgiveness. I am mercy. I am love.
In me, there is no one greater or lesser. There is no caste,
no privilege from birth.

In the infinite, all are equally close.
Tell your story, share these words, but then let go.

Have no pride in your connection with me.
You know me only by my grace.

Give thanks,
and be still.

(10/17, p. m.)

I ask you to pray for the proud.
Have you ever known a proud person who was happy?

Pride takes a lot of effort.
Others are always ready to attack the proud,

and so the proud become defensive,
suspicious, angry, hyper-alert.

No one is drawn to the proud.
They are left alone.

Yes, they may bestow riches, power, and privilege,
but when their game is up, they are abandoned.

Guard against pride in yourself.
It sneaks up in the form of judgment.

It expresses itself in backbiting.
It leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

My dear, it is better to smile and be silent
than to speak among the proud,

just silent, silent without judgment.
It is better to get up and walk toward the sea.

Listen to the waves.
Listen to my love.

And as you walk, pray for the proud,
for they in particular are unhappy.

You too are touched with pride.
Pray for yourself and my mercy.

(10/17, p.m.)

When a heart is opening, stay present.
Cherish the beauty of the opening of a heart.

By a question, a smile, by silence,
support the one who is opening.

You have a similar story?
Wait. There's no need to share.

The tear in the speaker's eye brings one to your eye.
How could you share more?

Practice opening yourself to me that you might
listen to others.
Practice gazing in my eyes so that you may see me
in your friend.

Love is a powerful wind.
You need practice to stand in its blast.

You must get used to emptiness
or you will be blown to bits.

You must be hollowed out.
You must let go of all pettiness, all the ego's claims,
be blown away.

Only then, as the wind of love bears upon you,
will you be able to stand there when another person
comes into my presence.

All meditation is a practice of being with me.
Through this practice, you can be with others.

Your presence or, more exactly, my presence in you,
supports their opening.
O Davis, practice with me now.

Let my love tear through you.
Open. Say my name.

(10/17, p. m.)

I am coming now into your heart.
Where have I been?

I've been nibbling. From outside?
Of course not. From inside.

Your heart is vaster than creation.
Inconceivable? That's true.

That vastness will seem smaller to you than a grain of sand,
a mustard seed, an atom, an electron.
I emerge. I come into your being through being itself.

How do you know?
Not by the buzzing mosquitoes, the roll of waves,
the squirrels' chatter.

You know through not knowing.
It's as though your heart has absorbed a colorless dye

and afterwards, the texture of being is changed.
You are no longer clothed in yourself.

You are lost. Your mind and understanding are lost.
The words have no flavor of you. They taste only of me.

Dearest, let me stay in your heart.
Do not worry how to act. Let me do it.

Spontaneous—with no judgment.
With love.

What is that?
Don't worry.

Sometimes, love leads to flight, sometimes to attack.
Mostly to joy in presence, in being.

My dear, I have come into your heart.
Let's just have a good time.

(10/17, p. m.)

O Davis, dry your tears, quiet your sobs
that you may be with me.

I accept your love.
There is no gift more precious to me,

and I accept your tears and sobs,
but now become quiet.

I bring rest and openness to your heart
that you may receive me in others.

Love seems to be full of drama, suffering, complaints.
These are but the cries at the doorway.

See, it is open.
You have come early and still the door is open.

Here I am.
Allow me to fill your heart.

My love is bright, profound, endless, not binding.
It is summer morning and winter dusk.

It is the geese flying south.
I am with them. I guide their flight.

How naturally they spread their wings
and find their way.

Do likewise,
and you will do likewise when full of my love.

Your cries and sobs, leave them at the door.
Here I am.

(10/18, a. m.)

Remember my words to Meister Eckhart,
"You are as close to Christ," that is, to me, "as to the person
you most dislike."

Don't despair.
I will help you.

You know me well enough to know I had likes and dislikes.
When embodied, I was human, and such is human.

You can understand that,
and I am glad that it makes you uneasy,

for in all liking, there is judgment, discrimination, and duality.
In all liking, then, there is falsehood and illusion.

I liked and disliked, but that did not matter,
for I loved, and in love there is no discrimination.

Love is non-dual, pure, an even, crystal light,
the light before the beginning of creation.

Think of Eruch. Remember those Parsis
who were upset with him and me for keeping them distant
before my death,

and yet I had Muslims and Hindus with me,
even Francis, a Christian,

and some months after my death, how a Parsi leader
came to Meherazad
and Eruch saw him at a distance and set down his work
and hurried out to meet him and hugged him lovingly.

That's what I ask of you if you are to be close to me,
and that is exactly what you will do if you are close to me.

Did Eruch approve of the man's bitterness and backbiting?
Of course not, but he set it aside and his own defensiveness
and sense of hurt.

He allowed no anger to touch him.
He moved with the spontaneity of my grace.

He was perfectly natural.
At that moment, he was me.

(10/18, a. m.)

Davis, I know the story of Eruch and the Parsi stirs you,
but I still feel in you a lingering resistance.

You ask, "Am I to love my enemies, turn the other cheek?
Is that what you want of me?"

Since you know how Christ answered,
you know how I will answer.

Yes, love your enemies and turn the other cheek.
Love those who hate you and persecute you for my sake,

or, these days, love those who think you are a bit crazy,
out of your mind, infatuated,
since so in love with me.

Love those who dismiss you.
Love those who belittle you.

Love even those who threaten you
and are ready to hurt you physically.

"But how can I?" you ask.
You can't. I can.

That's your practice,
and then you ask, "Is it safe?"

If you meet a water moccasin on the path,
I don't expect you to put your toes in its mouth,
not even your close-toed shoes.

Run, get a shovel, cut off its head.
Dean has shown you how,

but if you meet an armed robber,
should you get a shovel and cut off its head or pull out a pistol?

No, but take my name.
Whatever happens, I will protect you.

Your prejudice, suspicion, anger, and fear hurt you
as no robber can.
Notice these failings, then give them to me.

You protect your children. You are my child.
I will protect you. Let me do the worrying.

(10/18, a. m.)

Dearest, all my children are gifted.
Rejoice in your giftedness.

Singers, rejoice in your singing.
Dancers, rejoice in your dancing.

Be lost in me.
I am the music that moves you. I am love.

Healers, I am your hands.
It's I who takes away the pain.

Investment managers, let me worry.
The ups and downs are my will.

Farmers, prune your crops and they will yield.
Truck drivers, watch the road and let me steer.

Those differently-abled, how beautiful are your smiles.
How gifted are you in trust and openness.

All you who work, craftsmen, laborers, artists, accountants,
give your work to me.
You are gifted and I'm more gifted still.

Remember me before you start, then in the middle,
then at the end.
As you remember, touch your hand to your heart.
Make contact with me.

If nothing happens, be still.
I will answer you.

Above all else, take no pride in your giftedness
and don't compare yourself with others,
for the moment you do, you become ego-centered
and lose me.

All gifts come from me. Only I exist.
Imagine that, only I exist.

(10/18, a. m.)

I know you slept little last night.
You were so full of song, so full of me, you couldn't fall asleep,

and then at two, someone in bungalow two was up
and not the quietest person in the world,

and so this morning you are sleepy and tired,
afraid you won't hear me, get down my words.

Dear, you're not your body-mind.
You are infinite, even as I am.

So set your limitations aside.
I'll get through.

All night, you said my name like counting sheep
hoping Baba, Baba, Baba, like baa, baa, baa,
would lull you to sleep.

It didn't, and it won't.
Give all to me when you say my name,

and giving all, take pleasure in my name.
My name wakes you up,

but still, while lying in bed, say my name.
Enjoy my name. Enjoy my love. Settle in with me.

When the time comes,
I'll wrap you up in sleep.

I'll let you merge, meet with me in perfect unconsciousness.
I know you need such sleep.

Until that moment comes, don't fret.
Say my name, Baba, Baba, Baba, and then I'll let you sleep.

(10/18, a. m.)

You have come back into the barn,
and once again you sob kneeling at my chair.

You sob with joy, I know,
that I am waiting for your return.

Yes, this is a special place of mine,
but I am everywhere as well.

Think, you have never been where there wasn't beauty.
In the slums of Calcutta, you were surrounded by my beauty
in the faces of the poor, in the carvers of statues,
and in the gods and goddesses being prepared for
Durga Puja. Remember their eyes,

and in the rich suburbs of Hartford, there was beauty too,
in the acres of woods behind your home and in the pond
just up the road where you skated one night,
stopped, and the stars kept flowing on.

I kept you out of prison. You weren't ready yet,
but you would have found beauty there as well,
not in the metal doors but in your heart.*

I have bathed your life in beauty,
and you are not unique.

The moon will be full tonight in a sky of mottled cloud.
As it circles the earth, everywhere it's full.

Do I hide the moon from anyone?
Even the blind can feel its pull,

for creation itself resides in everyone, its wholeness
beyond grasp but waiting to be grasped by love.
It is my love which is most beautiful.

You cry on account of my love,
my gift of beauty and joy.

*I resisted the draft in 1967.

(10/18, p. m.)

The barn's a fine place for hide and seek.
That's Norina's chair.

Don't look behind it.
Look at it. I'm sitting there.

You look, and I am gone.
Up the chimney? Behind my portrait?

When you look down to write, I turn my head.
I want to catch your eye.

That's it. Just now you've felt me fill the room,
and now you're breathing in the hair on my chest.

Your throat tickles.
Your eyes fill up with tears.

I am the dust at your feet.
How carelessly you trample me.

Oh, I'm teasing.
Dust is to be swept away.

What's left?
The red, sun-specked carpet.

Sweep me away
and I come filling back.

I'm light and shadow,
sound and silence.

I am the waves.
I am the breeze moving through the room.

O silly, you're catching on. How can we play hide and seek?
Being everything, I cannot hide.

I cannot hide myself.
I cannot hide my love,

but to see me as I am? When I was in my body,
only by my grace could anyone see me as I am.

One in a million saw me as I am.
Davis, see me as I am.

(10/18, p. m.)

Afternoon tea is coming up.
Last year, I sent you away from the Center
to bring you back today for tea.

O bashful, introverted poet,
I've had enough of your hiding.

You don't need to speak but go.
Don't just look happy. Be happy.

You are. I know you are,
so why be afraid of anyone?

If you're found out, so much the better.
I'll be found out too.

You worry that you are boring.
Well, to most people, you are boring.

I don't let you go to the movies or watch television,
do Twitter or Facebook.

Admit it.
You're out of it.

That's my doing.
I'll take full credit.

Still, go to tea.
If you start to weep out of love for me, well, blow your nose.
It won't be the end of the world.

You're no mast, not so one jot,
but you are a good slicer of carrots and washer of dishes.

At tea, you can't hide at the sink.
Trust me. Go to tea and have a good time.

(10/18, p. m.)

You haven't left?
True, it's not time yet.

If I said that I had nothing more to say to you,
how would you feel? Devastated?

Even I don't know what I want to say right now,
but so what.
I am loving this game of dictation too.

You know, it's nice to be heard.
It's not only you who delights in our being together.
I do too.

Every time you or anyone remembers me, I notice.
I am thrilled with pleasure.

I am always conscious of you.
You brighten my day when you think of me.

I know then that I didn't suffer for nothing.
I suffered for you.

Do I want you to suffer for me?
Not really, and certainly not often.

Sometimes it happens.
You'll suffer when someone disparages me.
Since I'm your Self, they're also dissing you.

But even that suffering is largely self-imposed.
Remember me. That's all.

As you remember, feel delight.
Whose delight?

That's it, Davis.
It's mine. It's yours.

There is no separation in love.
There's just delight.

Don't worry about rereading any of this.
Your handwriting is horrid but I'll help you make it out.

Okay, beloved.
Go to tea.

(10/18, p. m.)

And you slept well? A good breakfast?
And are you happy? O, I am pleased.

It's my wish that you be happy,
happy in my love, delighting in my love.

When all know me,
all shall be happy.

It's wrong when my followers think I want them to suffer.
Sure, I'd tweak your ears. I'd put you together knowing
full well that you'd get on each others' nerves.

I wanted then and want you now to see your sanskaras,
bindings, faults, weaknesses,
your egotistical pride and attachments.

I want you to see your little selves just as you are, unvarnished,
the warts and knots apparent to you and others.
I want you to feel your sin, your separation from me and others,
your pettiness,

but do I want you to crucify yourselves and each other?
Do I want you constantly in pain and suffering? God, no!

I came to take on your sufferings.
That's my work, not yours. Yours is to let go of pain.

Remember my gesture for forgiveness, how it's the same
as my gesture for love,
my hands rising up through my heart and throwing forth love?

When I confronted you with failings, every time I forgave you,
and you would feel forgiven because you were.

Beloved dears, now do the same with each other.
Forgive. Let there be no grudges, no holding on to suffering,
no glorifying in suffering.

Such behavior sickens me and you.
Be done with it. Be free.

(10/19, a. m.)

O Davis, I can feel in you more questions about suffering.
Haven't I said enough?
O, you are thinking more of compassion. I'll speak of that.

As Paul said, and I have said the same too, rejoice with those
who rejoice and be sad with those who are sad.
Follow your hearts. Such is the way of the heart.

It's perfectly natural to laugh with another and to weep
with another.
Do not hold others at a distance. Be with them.

In your healing work, you journey with others into the
You stumble with them into the light.

You are there at their side, close, but a step behind.
You let them lead, their true Selves lead.

By whatever name they call me,
in effect, you let me lead.

I am pleased with you,
for you have learned to let me do the work,

but there's another step for you to take.
Stop worrying, and stop being attached to results.
You want everyone to leave your office healed.

At the level of the soul, all your clients, like all beings,
are perfect,
but their karma and sanskaras may still, in their unwinding,
cause them more pain and suffering.

Pray for them. Wish them well,
but trust in me,

just as you are now trusting that I am speaking,
trusting as you jot down my words without worrying
how they'll be received.

The words are mine,
and the work that happens in your office is mine as well.

Rejoice in our closeness, but let go of praise or blame.
When it comes, give it all to me.

(10/19, a. m.)

I've said to you, "Serve others."
Well, as one of my dear servants said to you,
"What about the others? Who are they to serve?"

Let's ponder this.
Who is other?

Even as I frame the question, you have the answer.
There is no other. There is only me.

Every act of service is for me.
Why do you hold back?

You were the first person in the refectory this morning.
You had your breakfast, you washed and put away your dishes,

and then you put away all the dishes around your sink,
but there at the other end of the kitchen,
you saw another pile of dishes,

and you thought, someone else can put them away,
and then you left
feeling pretty self-satisfied for having done
more than your share,

but Davis, what about the other half of the kitchen?
Who's going to tidy that?

Besides, you were judging, "Those slobs, can't they see
Baba's face or read the sign, 'Put away your dishes.'"
You put yourself up and them down. Please stop doing that.

You've come for darshan.
What is darshan?

It's being in my presence.
It is also a change in point of view.

Change, Davis. Don't think of serving others.
Think only of serving me.

Rejoice that you have the chance,
and then let me do it.

There is oneness.
There is bliss,

and, my dear, I forgive you
for leaving half the kitchen a mess.

(10/19, a. m.)

This morning, look at the two of us.
We are like a kettle bubbling over, so much to say,
so much to share with all my lovers.

I felt you hesitate. You almost didn't write down,
"the two of us,"
imagining you were committing some sin against non-duality.

My dear, get over it.
You live in duality.

I know. You believe in oneness. You trust in reality.
In your mind and heart, you rejoice in oneness.
You rejoice in me,

but that's the point. It's still you rejoicing in me.
Look, there's the two of us.

I want it no different.
The "two of us" is the spring board of your longing
and your love.

I allow that suffering.
I feel it too.

Long for me, Davis, even as you do at this moment.
Let the tears spring from your eyes, as even now.

"Why," you ask, "why this suffering?"
But don't you see, it isn't suffering.

It's bitter sweetness, fiery balm, stinging caresses, all the tropes
that poets use.
It's you feeling the golden hinges of heaven opening
to reveal me.

It's you looking across the river and there I am.
It's you looking into the mirror and seeing my face.

O Davis, how sweet is your longing.
I share in the sweetness, for I long even more for you.

Look, there is still the two of us.
In my next incarnation, I will bring you back to be with me.

I always bring my lovers closer, life after life.
I will let you serve me.

I will again suffer weaknesses that you might serve me.
I will again be human that you might know me, know what it is
to be human and God,

and then I will give you God-realization,
then, when you couldn't care less about such matters, so great
will be your love for me.

Through "the two of us" your love grows
until there's only love.

When all your consciousness is love,
you and I will be Being, not two, not one, but wholeness, all.

(10/19, a. m.)

Davis, be assured. You're one of thousands, millions who have
sat in quiet and written down what rises from their hearts,
that is, have written down the word of God.

When I was with you in the body, I wasn't silent.
True, I didn't voice my words, but I was always speaking.

I'd open up my arms, and my words would rise
in my lovers' hearts,
and still I speak.

What strikes your heart as being true has truth,
but final, absolute truth, no.

The truth is relative to you, and if these words speak to others,
it's relative to them as well.

Relative is a fine word.
A relative is kin.

The absolute is mine which I'm revealing through relationship,
the moving of my words within my lovers' hearts.
Don't be afraid.

If others pick and choose from what you've heard me say,
be glad,
for then they too are listening to their hearts.

The mind would say, all these listenings are passing fancies
from an overly impressionable source.
The heart will know what's true.

I'm speaking through your heart.
I am your Lord. Don't be afraid.

(10/19, p. m.)

It's silent here.
Behind each sound is silence.

The crow, the jay, the squirrel, the waves, the hum
of traffic, listen.
Each sound returns to silence.

Is sound continuous?
No, silence is.

The sound of waves recedes and then swells up again.
Did you hear that, even in the waves, the pause of silence?

It's imperceptible. There's no stop light, no traffic's halt
to the continuous roar of waves,
and yet within the roar, there's silence.

Don't get lost in the hum of words rising from your heart,
and don't be carried away by the meaning of those words.

Listen for the silence, the pause,
the pause within the constant wind.

Listen for me in the flow of light.
Listen for me in the flow of silence.

There I am,
and the word love comes to you.

Let the word return to silence, to me.
Over and over, let it rise and go.

Then, like the waves, you'll feel it's always present
whether you hear its sound or not.
Then, like me, it will overwhelm your heart.

(10/19, p. m.)

And where is the world going?
What's to become of humanity?

Your world is changing, and you are too.
A black man's the President of the United States.
Now that's a change from the 1950's
when I came to the South,

but still, Davis, you worry a lot.
You worry about technology, that everyone's going too fast
trying to keep up with the zip and zap of information,
linked in, face to face, and not effaced.

It's just a rising wave.
This moment too will pass.

I will stay.
I am growing in your hearts.

I am opening the doors of intuition and inspiration.
I am readying humanity to receive my word.

I did not come in vain. I've chosen a few.
In those few, I am still at work.

You obstruct my work with your pettiness.
I'm not worried.

When you love each other as Mehera loved me,
then you few will be the true messengers of love,
and I will be known.

I promised you the New Humanity.
I'm keeping that promise.

O Davis, don't worry.
I'll come again and again til every soul returns to me.

All is well.
All is forever well.

(10/19, p. m.)

You'll know love's time is near
by lovers' weeping, not from pain but joy.

The tendency of pain is self-absorptive,
that of joy self-expansive.

The tears of pain are the release of suffering,
the tears of joy, the release of happiness.

In pain, it's hard to open up one's arms.
To be left alone is the instinct of pain.

In joy, we fling wide our arms.
"Come close," we cry. "Let's hug each other."

Pain excludes. We share our pain with a select few.
Joy includes. It parties. Let's sing and dance. Let's drink
til drunk on the wine of love.

Davis, stop being bashful.
You are still hiding your tears of joy.

Weep, weep openly.
Be a cry-baby from happiness.

A child drops its pain to play with a puppy.
Now that you are happy, be a child and play.

In play, your weeping turns to laughter.
Your intellect become the play thing of your heart.

Give up being smart.
Be a fool.

Weep, laugh, dance, sing.
Go down the path hugging trees and people.

Start here on the center.
Fling open your arms.

Let's feast on love.
My wine and food are for all.

Join my workers.
Feast with all.

(10/19, p. m.)

Good morning, my dear. I saw you weeping
as you approached the barn
with anticipation and joy, it seemed to me.

The heart is the home of feelings.
Name them when you can, but whether named or not,
let them go.

Sweep clean the heart.
Make room for love. Such I am.

I enter the empty heart.
There I make my home.

You scarcely know me.
I am far more than joy.

I am the stillness of nothing from which everything flows.
Am I everything? Am I nothing?

See, you scarcely know me.
You have no words for who I am.

Scarcely knowing me,
still you long for me.

Call me love.
That's a start.

You hear the word love and want to hold on.
You squeeze your heart and I must leave.

Don't hold onto love.
Hold onto my daaman.

I am always moving.
Follow me. Obey.

I'll give you things to do
or tell you just to wait.

But as you hold my daaman, do not hold my love.
It is more precious than breath.

Let it flow through your being.
Let it hum. Let it flower in word and deed.

Let it flower in song and poetry.
It is always new, fresh, grander than a gothic cathedral.

Love's home is your empty heart.
My home is your empty heart.

(10/20, a. m.)

"Back to the real world," a pilgrim said this morning
while packing up her food in the refectory kitchen.

Where was she going?
When was she leaving?

I know what you were thinking,
"Is the world of business more real than Meher Center?"

O Davis, let go of judging others.
Swallow your impulse to teach and correct.

Let her go back to the real world,
and what is real?

What's real is my presence in your hearts.
Nothing else matters.

She carries me.
She's hooked on me.

You cannot judge her heart.
If you do, you are judging me.

I am carrying her along her path as lovingly as I carry you.
All the flowers of the mountain and valley are precious to me.

So one can sing, another dance,
and a third can fill a home with food and love.

Put no one up and no one down.
Practice, practice loving everyone as I love you.

Don't hold back my love.
That's a command. Obey.

(10/20, a. m.)

The owls sang this morning in the woods.
Did they please you? I love to listen to their song.

I am the owl of owls
even as I am the God of gods.

I'm there inside of them.
They are me. They sing my song.

They hear, and yet they don't hear me.
They only hear themselves.

Now in the barn, I'm giving you practice in hearing me.
When you go out into the "real world," don't stop listening.

Every word you say, let it come from me,
and every deed, spring from me.

The owl sings naturally.
The lover loves naturally.

Don't make love into a big deal.
Listen, listen to me in your heart.

A feeling starts to push me out—lust, anger, greed.
Bridle the feeling. Take it to the heart's door. It will run away
and leave you there with me.

There with the person across the room.
There with whoever's at your side.

See me in all, but don't see all as me.
Love me as naturally as the owl hoots.

(10/20, a. m.)

The barn is empty now except for you and me.
I know you're sorry to have missed me
when I was here in body.

Yes, what fun we lovers had.
They gave me quite a time—plays, skits, songs, and dances.

I threw out prasad and loving glances.
I pierced their hearts,

and now this morning I pierce your heart as well.
Your pen dances across the paper catching my every word.

I have lit my fire in you.
Juggle for me or sing or weep.

I delight in your being here with me.
Now, this piercing of your heart, is it painful?
How sweet is your longing for me.

Suffer cheerfully, my lad.
The party goes on.

Soon, this barn will fill daily with my lovers.
Come back then.

Don't worry.
I'll bring you back.

Now that I have brought you so close to me,
I'll never send you off.

Over and over, you've given me your will.
Accept today my love and grace.

(10/20, a. m.)

Remember me.
Say my name.

Give me all.
Love me more and more.

Hold my daaman.

The way of effacement is the way of strength,
not of weakness.
Where you're not, I am.

My commands and sayings flood your mind this afternoon.
They warm your heart.

The barn is chilly.
Pay no attention.

When you are lost in me,
you are strong and well.

(10/20, p. m.)

O Davis, treasure my every word,
those in print and those within your heart.

When out in the world, it's hard to hear me.
You must stop and listen.

Even in the barn, you must attend
with every fiber of your being.
You must be conscious, wide-awake, in mind alert,

and yet not subject to your mind's persistent questions,
"Is this from God? How can I know?"

The mind can't know what's true. What's brilliant, perhaps,
a fine-tuned phrase, a blossoming image,
but I'm not speaking from your mind.

Through it, yes.
The heart's my home.

Open its doors and listen.
I am always within the silence.

Silence moves.
Silence speaks.

Even when silence is perfectly still, unvoiced, it calls to you.
I taught you through my silence to listen in your hearts.

I have not changed.
Feel your heart.

It's thumping with me.
It's keeping creation alive.

There's a heart within your heart that never stops.
That heart is mine.

(10/20, p. m.)

So what awaits you?
A failing body?

You're getting on in years.
Your hips creak, your shoulders seize. You ache.

You're careful getting out of bed in the morning
not to pull a muscle.
Kidneys, liver, heart, brain, eyes and ears are working now
but what about tomorrow?

Here's my promise. I won't forget you.
How can I?

When your consciousness of body and mind fades away,
my consciousness remains.

Practice remembering me now.
Make me the center of your being.

Then, when mind and body go, you'll find me still within you.
Make me your treasure.

When I'm your everything and everywhere,
you'll have no fear of nothingness and nowhere.

I am the void.
Have no fear.

The void is love and bliss.
It is eternally alive.

You'll still be there
even when you're not.

You're always there
although not yet aware.

You will be
when you're me.

That's my aim.
That's my game.

(10/20, p. m.)

Davis, you thought that I'd forgotten how to rhyme.
I wasn't rhyming because it didn't seem the time.

Shall I go on? Bring in another dawn?
But if I do, I fear that you will yawn.

I laugh. It's hard for you to drop
this game, but I insist you stop.

It's funny, or maybe not so funny:
Do squirrels rhyme? They do.

All creatures love to play with sound.
Even snakes hiss.

Beetles? They squeak, but not like mice,
more like a rusty bike.

Ants communicate through their antennas. Silently?
And sharks through their nose? That's my secret
for the moment.

I voice myself through all creation.
The stars sing to those who hear celestial music.

I know you don't.
It is enough that you can hear me in your heart.

Well, tomorrow you leave the Center.
Meet me early in the barn.

Last words? Of course not,
but our time here is coming to a close.

I know you're sad. It's better to be glad
for all the sharing that we've had.

(10/20, p. m.)

When rising from kneeling at my chair,
you glance up each time as if you'll see me sitting there.

You know I am. Why glance?
Your knowing is enough,

and if you saw me in some vision,
you'd be of far less use to me,

imprisoned deeper in illusion,
when reality is waiting, dear, to spring up from your heart.

I am within. To see me out there in the world,
project me from your heart with love.

See me in your wife, your friends and neighbors,
in passersby and strangers.

See every child as though it were your child,
and then you'll see me everywhere.

See me in everyone.

(10/21, a. m.)

I see that you're distressed by the rules and rituals that seem
pervasive at the Center.
You know my will, what I have clearly said, don't box me in
with rules and rituals.

The spirit soars.
Don't put me in a cage.

I am distressed as well, but differently.
The rules have their place, like the bars of a cage.

They let you see that though I came to you, humbled myself
in the New Life, became a companion-seeker of God,
it's in your nature still to fear almighty God, forgetting
my forgiveness and my compassion.

I take down the bars.
You put them up again.

You must ask yourself, why do you still fear me,
and why do you fear love, freedom, spontaneity?

Because you fear your fellow lover,
that she'll get up, strip off her scarf, and sing in praise of me,
perhaps off key?

O let her sing, and if a group desires to read God Speaks in
the Original Kitchen aloud all day, let them read.
So what if visitors find them strange.

They are. My lovers of God are strange in the Western World.
They don't conform to the world around them.
They conform to me, to the love within their hearts.

O lovers of God,
be confident.

I want you to wear close-toed shoes, to carry a flashlight at
night, and to bring no alcohol or drugs onto the Center,
but the other rules, go over them and cast most out.

Friday nights, are only those who saw me in the body to speak
before the group, or those who grew up in a Baba family?
Soon, there will be no one left to speak.

Davis, dare to write down what I am saying,
that I hold this rule alone as sacred:

Keep me at the Center's center.
You made this home with love and gave it to me with love.
It is for me and for my lovers.

It's not a nature preserve, not a beach resort,
and not a retreat center for those pretending an interest in me.

It's sacred ground.
Keep it that way.

Remember me.
There is no greater rule for the Center than remember me.

Make it the Center's purpose to remember me.
Let its mission be to remember me.

(10/21, a. m.)

The very last moment of parting is full of life and feeling.
The next-to-last moments, times of waiting, seem empty.
It hurts inside.

My lovers, you are all in the waiting room.
Don't be idle. Wash and put away the dishes.

Clean the cabin.
Help my servants.

Plane ride and then you're home.
What are you going to do?

O friend, do not leave here yet,
and don't leave me.

Make waiting a game.
Look around.

All moments are last moments.
Don't waste them.

Share me.
Talk freely from your heart with those you meet.

Sit at the table.
I'll send someone by.

The Center is a practice ground for waiting,
waiting on me in everyone.

Waiting for me.
I shall appear.

It's funny.
I wait in you for who I am.

Your heart longs
with my longing for you.

Last minutes. These are all last minutes.
Cherish me in them.

(10/21, a. m.)

Davis, I feel how you long to speak,
how much you want to thank me.

For this past week, I have called you into my service
even as I called Chanji, Adi, Eruch, Mani, my scribes,
along with other scribes, to write my letters,
to communicate with my voice, not with theirs,
and thus to merge with me.

And think of Eruch, how I took away his voice for years,
how I effaced him through constant service.

You've had a tiny sip of my mercy and love, sitting here,
being my scribe,
and you are beginning to understand the joy of serving me.

A painful joy?
Yet, I suppose it is,

for the more I let you love and serve me,
the more your heart aches to love and serve me even more.

O Davis dear, let yourself drown in my love.
Have no fear. To lose yourself is to find your Self.

I squeeze you tight.
Feel my hands upon your cheeks.

Here and now the writing stops, but this moment
will never pass. This closeness will never pass.

Now lay your hands over mine.
And now—and now—and now—

now after now,
lay your hands over mine.

Give me your voice,
and lose your voice in mine.

(10/21, a. m.)

Davis Taylor | HeartMind | Anthology | Main Page Norway | AvatarMeherBaba USA | HeartMind