another dimension of sound so that when one sings the Arti the sound of that singing, one's own and everyone else's, is heard reverberating not from the tomb but from within one's very self. When we sang in unison all of the sound within the tomb was experienced as coming from within me.

I stood right in the doorway, not facing in, but standing sideways for lack of space with one ear facing in and one ear facing out. When we sang the Western Arti, I could hear that reverberating inner sound of the tomb in one ear and the exterior sound of the singing just outside the door of the tomb on the patio in the other. Baba had put me this day in a rather unique position, a position of being able to hear simultaneously with two ears both the inner sound and the exterior sound at one and the same time. Those further into the tomb and facing in could, I am sure, hear only the inner sound of the tomb, and those singing wholeheartedly outside the tomb could not hear well the sound of the same Arti being contained within the tomb.

It is not easy to describe this phenomenon in words and perhaps it is not really worth so many words. But I feel Baba would want me to try to express something simultaneously technical and mystical; Baba works in many ways both great and small.

I noticed with my two ears that those singing the Arti outside on the patio had gotten out of time with the singing of the Arti in the tomb itself. As an artist I have always been deeply interested in the problem of coordination of inner and outer experience. On this day I feel that the Master of coordination of all things gave me a chance to play in a small way with the problem of coordination. Being at the door, yet one of the singers inside the tomb, singing with that marvelously reverberating inner sound, I found that by just turning my head a little to the right and directing my voice out the doorway, the sound within the tomb could reach the ears of those singing just outside. And with apparently no effort at all the outside singing was brought perfectly in time with the inside singing. As soon as this was accomplished I turned my head back to rejoin the singing within. Only one who has been in Baba's tomb can know what this inner sound is like.

Then a second time I heard with my right ear, I could hear the singing outside the doorway getting out of time with the singing inside. Once again I turned my head slightly to the right to let the singing from inside issue through the doorway, and once again without any apparent effort the singing of the two groups was coordinated and made as one.

Then each one in turn, after Mehera, bowed down to Baba's samadhi and took darshan on this birthday of the beloved of the Beloved. My turn came and as I knelt down I could feel the tears coming to my eyes. But those tears did not pass the threshold of my eye lashes. This was not the moment for tears to flow. Baba would not have wanted me to display tears in front of Mehera, especially on her birthday. After bowing down at Baba's feet I rose and left the tomb, joining those outside on the patio. Others remained inside with Mehera.

I sat down on a bench facing squarely the doorway and felt most peaceful. A young woman named Heather came to the doorway and sang for Mehera the loveliest of songs, a song composed by her just for this day; a song to Mehera for Baba or a song to Baba for Mehera — I can't remember which it was, but it was profoundly touching to me. As I listened to the words of this song, sitting there with those outside, those dammed up tears rolled down my cheeks and fell into what seemed to be Baba's own lap. And only Baba saw.

The words of that song are as follows;

          "Meher, she is nodding when the evening light grows long; and

           Meher, she is smiling when the flower smell is strong; oh and