HIS CREATIVE WAVES OF LOVE
With us on this trip was a woman who spent much time reading the lives of various saints and, not liking dogs, she one afternoon took a small stick and gave poor Mr. Craske a sharp blow, cutting him just above the eye.
I was still exhausted from the journey and looking after Irene [Billo], and was suffering from some severe bruises caused by a fall, and this was too much. I lost my temper, said what I thought of this woman, and finished up my verbal attack with: "And you read about saints in the morning and beat dogs in the afternoon!"
This was unforgivable and, since news went round the ashram like lightning, it reached Baba in no time. He sent for me and for everyone else who was free at the time, and in front of them pointed out my sins. Disgraced and humiliated, I crept away and, leaving Irene to her fate, retired under my mosquito net and cried and cried and cried.
I remember that the only thing I seemed to be crying about was that God had created the universe. No anger at all against Baba, only the unmanifest God. This went on for at least a day. At intervals Baba would send for me, look puzzled, and point out that other people had been scolded and they had not behaved like this. I remember saying, "You have pushed me down under the sands of the desert, and I'll stay there. Boohoo." After a time I came around, recovered my sanity, and resumed my charge of Irene.
About a week later, I was seated near a field of grain. The sun was shining and a soft breeze blowing, causing the gold of the grain to billow across the hillside in lovely consecutive waves, bringing back to me love for the beauty of God's creation. How dreadful if He had not sent out His creative waves of Love. We should never have existed and known Baba.
THE DANCE OF LOVE, pp. 113-114
1980 © Sheriar Press, Inc.