the sense that creation is but an illusion and not Reality. The white flowers on the Path stood for purity, the only way that leads to the necessary purification of our consciousness if we are eventually to progress to the Ultimate Goal which is our divine Self.
Neither at that time had I heard of the Silent Master of India, nor of his message to the world; that when he broke his silence, the New Dispensation would come into being. To save the world from total destruction, there had to be a descent of the Christ or Buddhic Consciousness, a new awakening of the Spirit, to replenish and rejuvenate our poor, tired, tortured earth. Thus the Word would again be made flesh!
The Second World War started in 1939. It was in the spring of 1940, that I met one of Meher Baba's disciples in London, Will Backett. He heard about my dreams and experiences and explained to me their connection with Meher Baba. It was with great interest that I listened. . . that Baba was the Avatar of our Age, also of the revelations to come. Greatly impressed, I reflected deeply as I walked homewards across the park.
Thinking about my new friend, I could not help wondering if he was not a little . . . (I tapped my forehead). It was difficult to believe anything. Did he not seem quite bemused over this Master of his? Could Meher Baba really be the Messiah or Avatar of our epoch, the Lord of the Second Advent? It seemed incredible . . . but did we not need a new dispensation with so many living under the shadow of fear, hatred and oppression? Millions were groaning under the totalitarian sway of dictatorship. How would the war end? How could these hapless people be saved? Yet were we not all to blame for the wars which scourged the earth. Was this Meher Baba genuine or just another fake messiah? Had not Jesus said there would be antichrists?
As I mused I became aware of a strange warm glow. It seemed to have descended from the air, or perhaps it came from within, I do not know. This seems a prosaic description, but words are not adequate. This divine radiance grew and grew and warmed me through and through. I was being caught up in an intense mystical initiation . . . for was I not being bathed in rays of divine Love, warm, palpitating vibrations pouring down from heaven?
It was a much greater and more intensified experience, but similar to the initiation which had taken place in London in 1934, when I had imagined that perhaps my father was with me and had brought some angels