On the Readers' Shelf – 1

With excitement, I am reviewing the many published stories of my Purely Prema blog that began on March 8, 2012 and offering them to you, beginning with today’s post. Selections from the Archives will appear here with their Realizations each month through November 6, 2024. I warmly welcome both returning and new readers to my writings of worldly understanding in the light of continuous spiritual training. If you would enjoy reading this week’s entire post of "Penmanship," you will find the story in the Purely Prema Archives under 2012, and scrolling to March 8, under the tag, "Love."

My realization is, "When we see through our hearts, art comes in many forms, and words written with a feeling of 'Love' are Love in the form of art—whether from a beginning writer or an aging one. Art may be found in everyone's expression."

Shariat Farm: Serendipitous Love Part Two

Unable to find any place to rent and with my departure date coming up, I wondered if I could move my things into the farm, and with the thought that I could also help Jesse, I began cleaning. When Jesse's twenty-one-year-old son finally appeared, we agreed that I needed to make a call to his father. His first reaction was shock, but he turned amenable when I asked in the name of Meher Baba and I heard the answer I had hoped for.

Now I brought my things out. The field with the horses was un-mowed since Jesse had left mid-summer, but I delightedly plowed through grass up to my knees, stopping for cactus that climbed even higher, with one of each of two pale-green and prickly mitts narrowly attached to its brother underneath. Tall, thin stems erupting in tiny, white flowers became part of my search for plant names in the wildflower book.

“Returning from India to the farm each year, I loved my small bedroom with its west-facing window taking up half the wall ... where in the morning I propped up pillows to look out at the roughly mowed yard and the trees, where birds and animals moved and leaves were shifting. ...This was the first time I'd lived in seclusion among abundant grasses. ... I looked out and met my new family—scrambling, squabbling birds at the feeder I hung, wheeling hawks, grazing deer and wild turkey, a passing fox partially visible, and a steadily crawling, long-term resident gopher tortoise on its routes."*

* All quotes in this post can be found in Prema Jasmine Camp's A Flower for God: A Memoir (Seattle, WA: Wilson Duke Press, 2021).

Shariat Farm: Serendipitous Love Part One

My moving to Shariat Farm really began at a reading by David Cousins in January 1997, months before I first set foot on the farm. I hadn't heard of Meher Baba, but David told me that He was standing behind my left shoulder, cranking up my heart that was all run-down.

 In April, I received a phone call from a man I didn't know who gave his name as Jesse, and when I mentioned Meher Baba he told me that he had photos of Him that he would give me, but it would be two months before I had an opportunity to be in Jesse’s town.

On the day to pick up the photos, I found the lime rock road described in the directions, turned into sparse woods, followed sand tracks through dried grass to a curve in the road, then stopped at the edge of a field. Tall grasses grew back to where two live oaks made diminutive a low, faded-peach building with a wide, covered front porch.

Once inside, seated on his sofa and recognizing Meher Baba in photos, I asked if we could walk in the field that I could see through a sliding glass door, back to where I could hear there were horses neighing

Earlier, in David's February workshop, he had told me that I might want to go to India in the fall, but that I didn't have to, and then pausing, added, "Although you are a journey person." By late September, I had a partially paid ticket as I waited for the necessary sale of my home in Massachusetts to complete the payment. Jesse had called again, and this time to say that he might want to rent his home while he was in India for six months.

I had found a driveway off the lime rock road, wondering as I drove through woods, if I had turned at the right mailbox. .... As I walked through the tall grass to the porch, in those early few moments, I had stood still in a theater of humming insects and known this was my home—and that the thought was totally inappropriate. Nonetheless, I'd felt undeniable contentment, as in coming home," serendipitous love," and an unquenchable longing to stay.*

* All quotes in this post will be found in Prema Jasmine Camp's A Flower for God: A Memoir (Seattle, WA: Wilson Duke Press, 2021).