Songs of Kabir and 82 Family Letters
Baba loved and often quoted poetry by Kabir. The other day I found myself with an hour on my hands and drifted into a bookstore. Lately I don't read as many history books or novels as I once did and so I found myself browsing the religious section. Finding nothing there that grabbed me, I floated on to the poetry books and was happy to find a Dover edition of the Songs of Kabir which I snapped up.
Many poems in the book speak that music with which we are familiar (e. g. LI):
"Dear friend, I am eager to meet my Beloved! My youth has flowered, and the pain of separation from Him troubles my breast.
"I am wandering yet in the alleys of knowledge without purpose, but I have received His news in these alleys of Knowledge.
"I have a letter from the Beloved: in this letter is an unutterable message, and now my fear of death is done away.
"Kabir says: 'O my loving friend! I have got for my gift the Deathless One.'"
Of course that is the issue. As we wander in alleys of knowledge without purpose (like me in the bookstore), how do we find Him? For me the poetry of Kabir (at least in this version) offers only hints and traces: news of Him, but sparse news at that. I guess I admire his wisdom, that he wrote words that gave joy to my Beloved, but for me I find I want more immediate tidings.
Could it be the translation? Yes, although Rabinranath Tagore must be esteemed as a noble translator. Eveyln Underhill's foreword, though, to me has all of the cautious hedging that I think of as pure Western thinking (e. g. "..he (Kabir) is protected from the soul-destroying conclusions of pure monism, inevitable if its logical conclusions are pressed home: that is, the identity of substance between God and the soul, with its corollary of the total absorption of that soul in the being of God as the goal of the spiritual life." ) Kabir as quoted by Meher Baba has the ring of deep truth, unhindered by judicious caution.
These songs, to me, point to the need to find and follow a Guru. Meher Baba is in fact the Guru.
Another book I've been working through is 82 Family Letters, written by Mani, Meher Baba's wonderful sister. These letters were written to Baba's lovers, at Baba's behest, between 1956 and 1969. They are laid out on the page in courier typeface, and each is signed by Mani, so that they radiate authenticity and an immediacy of Baba's presence (perhaps that which I miss in Kabir). Mani writes with deep unfailing devotion to Baba, absolute faith in his Avataric mission, humble amazement at the love of Baba-lovers around the world with whom she is in correspondence, and a wonderfully cheerful appreciation of the world of nature around Meherazad and Guruprasad.
I met Mani during the "Great Darshan" of 1969 and was impressed by her warmth and the beauty of her personality. By the time I left to return to Bombay, I was wrung out with sickness and irritated as Baba's constant loving presence (I really was the least of Baba's darshanees, I think), and wrote something grumpy in the pink guest book that was passed around to all of Baba's Western lovers who attended. I can't remember what I wrote, but I seem to recollect as we said our goodbyes that a few of the women mandali looked at me quizzically. If it helped at all, I would regret those comments, but I suppose I was being honest, and I don't doubt that Baba had quite a pile of nasty sanskaras to clear from me before I could even approach him, so I suspect all happened as it should.
The book itself is truly a wonderful effort. Anticipating the blogs of today, it is full of small incidents, familiar and less familiar quotes from Baba, and "inside stories" about life with Baba. These were designed at the time to sustain the love of Baba's lovers then who were forced to wait through Baba's seclusions and later, exclusions, hoping for the day they could have darshan. In fact, the book inadvertently builds up to a recounting of how how those 695 Western lovers were finally received by Baba at Guruprasad, Meherabad, and Meherazad, when He flung open the doors of his presence for all time.
One interesting sidelight characteristic of the later 60's portion of the book is Mani's description of the huge explosion of awareness of Baba throughout India, Iran, the United States, Europe, and Australia, related to the industry of so many. It leads me to wonder about the following 35 years. Baba's work, as we know, is done by Baba, and the peak of his manifestation is still presumably in the future. I wonder how Baba lovers are spreading his word today. I confess that I live in some isolation here, myself, and cannot point to any great efforts myself.
For me, if I have it right, the real work is to foster the love for Baba in my own heart, with the hope that if and when He wills it, someone else may catch an errant flame from my honest devotion. Is that enough? He knows.
Many poems in the book speak that music with which we are familiar (e. g. LI):
"Dear friend, I am eager to meet my Beloved! My youth has flowered, and the pain of separation from Him troubles my breast.
"I am wandering yet in the alleys of knowledge without purpose, but I have received His news in these alleys of Knowledge.
"I have a letter from the Beloved: in this letter is an unutterable message, and now my fear of death is done away.
"Kabir says: 'O my loving friend! I have got for my gift the Deathless One.'"
Of course that is the issue. As we wander in alleys of knowledge without purpose (like me in the bookstore), how do we find Him? For me the poetry of Kabir (at least in this version) offers only hints and traces: news of Him, but sparse news at that. I guess I admire his wisdom, that he wrote words that gave joy to my Beloved, but for me I find I want more immediate tidings.
Could it be the translation? Yes, although Rabinranath Tagore must be esteemed as a noble translator. Eveyln Underhill's foreword, though, to me has all of the cautious hedging that I think of as pure Western thinking (e. g. "..he (Kabir) is protected from the soul-destroying conclusions of pure monism, inevitable if its logical conclusions are pressed home: that is, the identity of substance between God and the soul, with its corollary of the total absorption of that soul in the being of God as the goal of the spiritual life." ) Kabir as quoted by Meher Baba has the ring of deep truth, unhindered by judicious caution.
These songs, to me, point to the need to find and follow a Guru. Meher Baba is in fact the Guru.
Another book I've been working through is 82 Family Letters, written by Mani, Meher Baba's wonderful sister. These letters were written to Baba's lovers, at Baba's behest, between 1956 and 1969. They are laid out on the page in courier typeface, and each is signed by Mani, so that they radiate authenticity and an immediacy of Baba's presence (perhaps that which I miss in Kabir). Mani writes with deep unfailing devotion to Baba, absolute faith in his Avataric mission, humble amazement at the love of Baba-lovers around the world with whom she is in correspondence, and a wonderfully cheerful appreciation of the world of nature around Meherazad and Guruprasad.
I met Mani during the "Great Darshan" of 1969 and was impressed by her warmth and the beauty of her personality. By the time I left to return to Bombay, I was wrung out with sickness and irritated as Baba's constant loving presence (I really was the least of Baba's darshanees, I think), and wrote something grumpy in the pink guest book that was passed around to all of Baba's Western lovers who attended. I can't remember what I wrote, but I seem to recollect as we said our goodbyes that a few of the women mandali looked at me quizzically. If it helped at all, I would regret those comments, but I suppose I was being honest, and I don't doubt that Baba had quite a pile of nasty sanskaras to clear from me before I could even approach him, so I suspect all happened as it should.
The book itself is truly a wonderful effort. Anticipating the blogs of today, it is full of small incidents, familiar and less familiar quotes from Baba, and "inside stories" about life with Baba. These were designed at the time to sustain the love of Baba's lovers then who were forced to wait through Baba's seclusions and later, exclusions, hoping for the day they could have darshan. In fact, the book inadvertently builds up to a recounting of how how those 695 Western lovers were finally received by Baba at Guruprasad, Meherabad, and Meherazad, when He flung open the doors of his presence for all time.
One interesting sidelight characteristic of the later 60's portion of the book is Mani's description of the huge explosion of awareness of Baba throughout India, Iran, the United States, Europe, and Australia, related to the industry of so many. It leads me to wonder about the following 35 years. Baba's work, as we know, is done by Baba, and the peak of his manifestation is still presumably in the future. I wonder how Baba lovers are spreading his word today. I confess that I live in some isolation here, myself, and cannot point to any great efforts myself.
For me, if I have it right, the real work is to foster the love for Baba in my own heart, with the hope that if and when He wills it, someone else may catch an errant flame from my honest devotion. Is that enough? He knows.
posted by David | 11:47 AM
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