Monday, 15 March 2010

When the s**t hits the fan!!

We were talking in the queue to darshan at the Samadhi, Gussi and I, about how difficult it is to look after ailing mothers. Her mum is suffering from a slow but sure road to senile dementia, and she was saying how it makes it really hard for her to phone her mum and talk to her. Mine, of course, is recovering from a double whammy - open-heart surgery and an acute Hepatitis B infection. She'd only been back in Meherabad for a couple of days. Yesterday, when we had this conversation, was Mothering Sunday, so I reminded her to at least call and try.

The conversation progressed to how Baba makes us suffer. Everywhere we look there is a lot of shit hitting fans, and Baba-lovers seem to get the most fallout. She was remembering that more suffering means that Baba loves you more, because He said that those whom He loves the most suffer the most. It is hard isn't it, to escape the shit?? The queue, progressing slowly, must have made me extra philosophical, because I said quite seriously, "Hey Gussi, there is one thing we can be sure of. There are fans, they are turning. There is shit flying up to meet the fan, and you can be sure that some of it will fall on us."

However, what I'd like to add to that piece of wisdom is that no matter how much falls on us, and no matter how foul it smells, He loves us and will be there to help us clean it all up. Until the next load lands, love and Jai Baba to you all.

1 comment:

  1. My heart goes out to you and your mother. Baba certainly isn't sparing. When I was a teenager in the mid-eighties -- and I'm not sure if this was after I heard of Baba or just when I was studying Buddhism -- I had terrible asthma. I had grown up with it, and I had no memories of a time when it was easy to draw a breath. I was working in a pet store when I was sixteen or seventeen, and my body had built up a resistance to the medication I was taking. One afternoon, I had a terrible asthma attack, and I could hardly draw a breath. "This is ridiculous," I thought. "I've been fighting against this condition for all these years. If my body is only an illusion, why am I fighting so hard to preserve it? If it is my karma to die from asthma, then so be it. I see no reason I should be attached to this particular form." My vision was beginning to tunnel, and I thought I was about to pass out when my girlfriend just happened to drop by and drove me to the emergency room. I have always afterward thought that it was Baba's intervention. At any rate, it was not my karma to die at that time. It was a miracle -- BUT, Baba didn't relieve me of the asthma. I have continued to struggle with it all my life, though it has never been quite that bad before.

    We are heading to Meherabad for the first time this August. I am glad that I still have this particular form so that I may go take darshan of Baba.


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