I went to East Challacombe for Easter in 1931 and was met by Margaret Starr. One had to walk two miles on a dirt road through ditches and fields to get to the retreat, a stone house on a hill. When I walked into the sitting room, on the right I saw Baba's picture on the wall and asked, "Who's that?" Meredith told me about Baba. I was stuck. From that moment, I knew something had happened. I stayed at Devonshire for two weeks and toward the end of my stay, Meredith said, "If you work hard for five years, meditating every day, you will be fit to meet Meher Baba when he comes."
But Baba came in five months! Having given up God, He decided to come to me.
Margaret vividly recalled her first moments with Baba at the Davys' house:
The bell rang and I opened the front door. And there at the bottom of the steps stood the most appealing figure that one could ever hope to see. No sign of power. Just a vision of gentleness, grace and love that touched the heart immeasurably. He came up the steps, gave me a passing glance, and accompanied by Meredith, Chanji and others, went up the stairs to his room [in the "children's nursery" level.] I remained in the hall. A few minutes later, Meredith came down the stairs and grandly said, "Meher Baba wishes to see you."
Overcome by nervousness, I said, "Wouldn't he like to see somebody else first?"
Meredith looked at me sternly and said, "Meher Baba wishes to see you." I turned and climbed three flights of stairs to the most important moment of my life, the meeting with my Master.
He was seated quietly in a chair and gestured to Chanji to bring another chair and place it facing close to his. He then beckoned me to sit. For a moment or so, there was intense quiet, and then I had a strong feeling that it was important to look into his eyes. Courage came, and I did so, looking in deeply — deeply, as far as I could.
I have nothing to say about what I saw. In fact, I don't know. I only know that from that moment, whatever rough treatment he may have handed out afterward, there has never been a moment's doubt as to his being the embodiment of Love and Life.1
Footnotes
- 1.Margaret Craske, The Dance of Love (Sheriar Press, Myrtle Beach, 1980), p. 4.