The tomb shrine of Meher Baba is a small, stone building under a white dome and gold finial. A covered porch attaches to the front, and behind one of its benches, a duty-person hands out prasad—hard, orange candies and peanuts.
Next to the porch is a neem tree that is the squirrels' playground. Not all of the peanuts are eaten by pilgrims, some offer them scooped in their hands held high toward the five-inch, friendly, energetic bodies—their gray heads and feet beside brown and white-striped backs marking the hopeful hungry.
From a banyan tree, the hard-to-see Coppersmith barbet can be heard by its tok...tok...tok.
Just once, I saw its small, stubby, green body with a beak big for its size, shaped like the tips of sewing shears.
By the results of the Myers Briggs personality test, I am a barbet.
Answers determine whether you are an introvert or extrovert, intuitive or sensor, feeler or thinker, and judger or perceiver. A sensor gives exact time while an intuitive says, "It’s about …" A thinker wants facts; a feeler consults feelings. One who judges makes lists, but a perceiver changes easily. I'm an introvert, intuitive, feeler, and one who judges—statistically one of every hundred people.
Aging has developed my helpful abilities that make me more comfortable with what I am, as the old upset of being different and left out—dissolved.
My realization is, "There is a purpose we have the traits we do and acceptance is our spiritual growth in knowing that each of us is a child of God and perfect as a soul."