Ballet (and Baba) Lessons with Miss Craske

In the early 1980s after college, I moved to New York City to study ballet with Margaret Craske. Baba lovers often asked what it was like to study ballet with her, so, years later, I got the idea of offering a “Miss Craske-style” ballet class at the Northeast Gathering for Meher Baba. I sent in a proposal and received the reply, “What does a ballet class have to do with Meher Baba?” The connection seemed obvious to those of us who were Baba Lovers and studied with her, but it was also true that Miss Craske never spoke about Baba in dance class. I saw an opportunity to fashion a dance class that offered a taste of how Miss Craske transmitted, through her daily ballet classes, certain lessons pertinent to her experience of living with Baba as an early Western disciple. I got the go ahead for the class and came up with three themes: ego bruising, obedience, and presence. With Edward Henkel, a former Craske student playing the Perfect Boy and ballet demonstrator, the class was a hit. Here, I offer my reflections on the three themes.

Baba’s methods for grinding down the ego are legendary. My favorite story of Miss Craske’s on this topic happened in Devon on Baba’s first trip to England in 1931. The group was seated on a steep, rocky hillside, and Baba asked Margaret to dance. Her pride had “its first battering from Baba.” She describes the dance as “rather like being a goat” with “a few flappy arm movements.” ¹

The process of learning to dance—coordinating the body in complex movement patterns, making them flow, and bringing them to life—is an ego bruising process in and of itself. A dancer has to be willing to look awkward before learning the grace and flow of the dance. During class, dancers are asked to change how they do a movement, which means risking looking like a duck out of water in front of everyone. Miss Craske was a master of ego bruising. From her director’s chair at the front of the room, she could zing you with a word or a look. One of my most memorable zings came after I had been promoted to stand in the second line of her advanced ballet class (the first line was for professional dancers). She said archly, “In your next life, dear, start dancing at eleven.” I was elated (my ability was recognized!) and crushed (I started too late!) at the same time, but knew, somehow, that I was on the right path.

Regarding obedience, the discipline of ballet training precedes itself. Dancers train to have split-second control over their bodily movements, making a fairly obvious, if physical, connection to Baba’s requirement for implicit obedience. Margaret Craske was able to put her dance training to good use when she received her first order from Meher Baba via telephone through Herbert Davy, Kitty’s brother. She was to close every door in the Davy house where she awaited Baba’s arrival, then answer the front door herself. Easy enough, except that the Davys were home—it made it quite awkward to shut them into their own rooms! Still, she succeeded in her task and answered the door where she had her first glimpse of Meher Baba.

In ballet class, the teacher gave the steps and corrected their execution. Miss Craske’s high expectations around obedience to instructions came as a shock to students whose habit was to study around town, going from teacher to teacher, following various ballet trends. Miss Craske’s expectations were at a level of precision that required a commitment to more than occasional study with her. Ballet students would be dancing full throttle, piano music soaring, and suddenly, The Clap. Everyone and the pianist would stop dead in their tracks, wondering who would be the “lucky” object of Craske’s forensic ballet analysis. Many years later, I realized that Miss Craske’s clap was so effective because she had learned the tone from the Master Clapper, Meher Baba Himself. Baba clapped in His silence to attract the attention of His Mandali, who learned to stop on a dime and obey the Master’s call immediately.

My obedience test came in a cab ride from the dance studio uptown to Miss Craske’s apartment at the Wellington Hotel in New York City. I had the enviable job of riding up with her after class to make sure she got into the building safely (she was in her nineties at this time). This duty also meant I could request as many Baba stories as traffic would allow. On this particular trip, Miss Craske was having trouble getting out of the car. The cabbie urged me to get out and help her, but as I was on the street side not the curb side, Miss Craske said, “No, don’t get out.” The cabbie did not let up prodding me to help her. Held in the predicament’s crossfire, I quickly considered my options and said to the cabbie, “Always listen to your teacher!” I waited till Miss Craske coordinated her exit. She didn’t say anything, but I felt she was pleased with my choice.

Presence is difficult to teach but something the best dancers possess. I had learned about presence through Miss Craske’s choice of teaching style, the Cecchetti method. It didn’t emphasize the lickety-split speed and virtuosity of Balanchine’s method, which was all the rage. Cecchetti exercises were demanding in a different way: the class choreographies were repeated on certain days of the week, which allowed for deep refining. Cecchetti technique often seemed plain in comparison to the grand flourishes practiced at the barre and in center work by other styles. Its port de bras were minimal, requiring transparency rather than personality from the dancer. In Miss Craske’s class, dancers learned to fill out the movement with their presence rather than with flowery, self-expressive arm movements.

My favorite Craske story that touches on presence is of the time she gave Meher Baba a dancing lesson in Santa Magherita, Italy in 1932.² [Link at 7:05.] Margaret and Delia were resting in the garden after lunch, when who showed up but Chanji, Baba’s secretary, and a mischievous Baba. Margaret, picking up on His mood, suggested “Let’s forget the Universe and have some fun!” Baba signaled that he would like a dancing lesson. Miss Craske taught him a simple 1-2-3 hop and away they “flew around the garden path … with joy, freedom, and rhythm.”³ Miss Craske comments in her talk, “If your mind isn’t there—your ego—movement comes through.”

This reminds me of an observation that Tex Hightower, a student of Craske’s, made about the dancers. During Baba’s visit to the Myrtle Beach Spiritual Center in 1958, when the dancers were called in for their meetings with Baba, laughter would often be heard wafting from the Lagoon Cabin, to the surprise of the other Baba followers. Tex called these meetings with the dancers “comic relief” for Baba. Perhaps they functioned somewhat like Baba’s sister Mani’s skits and plays did, taking Baba’s mind off His grueling work. The dancers had an ability to drop into the present moment through their metier. It’s nice to imagine that they afforded some lighter, more spacious moments for Baba, too.

In Miss Craske’s retirement years at Happy House at the Meher Spiritual Center, dancers would come down for a lesson on her porch. She would put us through our paces and comment on our technique. Eventually, even this activity became too much for her. I remember during one visit, I sat with her for a long time on her porch while she dozed in and out. I was happy to have these simple moments together with her. As I left later that afternoon, her caregiver mentioned how lovely it was that I could be with her in this simple way and not need her active attention. In being present with her on her porch, I practiced another type of skill that she had imparted to us in her ballet classes over the years. Beyond battements and frappés, it was a way of remaining available, of attending and listening to the need of the moment. I like to imagine that Miss Craske honed this ability in the presence of Meher Baba Himself. Perhaps she passed along some small part of her experience to us dancers through her patience as we grappled with our bodies and egos and learned to let go in the dance.

1.The Dance of Love, by Margaret Craske, p.8
2.Margaret Craske – The Oral History Radio Hour – His Arrival, https://youtu.be/H2CiF-0_ykA?si=y3c1ZqV1lV6Can0O
3.The Dance of Love, p. 49