Meher Baba’s remaining close ones live at Meherazad, islanded among trees, and flowers in clay pots, on bushes, and over arbors.
As a new pilgrim I climbed Seclusion Hill behind the buildings where Meher Baba had two small huts built on top for His work. I remember it was steep. As the bus load disperses, I slip away hoping to be unnoticed.
I find a path and unsure follow it. There are fences and workers. I gesture, "Seclusion Hill?" A man points, walking to a gate where the entrance is not obvious but beyond it is the path.
Very slowly, I proceed up the rough stones, listening to birds, looking at greenery, and feeling empowered climbing alone at seventy-one. Gingerly sitting within a meter of the top, on a wide, flat stone, I relax, enjoying the expansive view of fields and crops. Aloud I talk to Baba, inwardly listening.
Timing my climb so as not to miss the bus, at first I can’t see the right path. Then my inner voice says to begin, and I will know where to go when it’s time. Just where the path appears to end there is a sharp turn to the right, mine. I must look down at each craggy step, which is angular and hedged by grass. Then I smile with awareness. Meher Baba is saying to live in the present that is being perfectly shown to me by my only being able to see and take one step at a time.
My realization is, "Truth surrounds us when we open to simple situations having deeper meaning."