“The only people who see the whole picture are the ones who step outside the frame”-Salman Rushdie
In this post I want to explore what it’s like identifying as a mystic, and how far I have traveled from the days of being a religious fundamentalist. Once again, this is simply my reflection on my own journey. It’s also not something which I ever planned to do – in a way it has simply happened to me. Had I aspired to get to the place I am in now, I don’t think I would ever have actually got here.
There’s a lot of talk these days about deconstruction, especially amongst those who have grown up more conservative in their faith. I won’t go into the reasons for this here. However, for myself it was the years of cognitive dissonance between what I saw in the natural world and what was taught in church that led to my deconstruction. For most of my early life i just covered up the contradictions with memorised bible verses – after all, the Word of God was ultimate truth, whereas our senses and the sciences could be deceiving us.This all blew up when I finally decided to look in detail into the Evolution issue, and the interpretations of the bible that I had been taught just didn’t hold up any more against the discoveries of science. The ins-and-outs of that issue are far too deep for this post.
As my faith fell apart I thought wanted to embrace a naturalistic, atheist worldview, since these were the people who had argued me out of my biblical literalism and creationism. Their worldview seemed to make sense, and I agreed with the new atheist’s labeling all “faith” as simply delusion. However, after a couple of years of this, there was still a hunger in my heart for something more than the material universe, something transcendent, something we might call spirit (though I couldn’t articulate it like that back then). The materialistic worldview just didn’t answer all of life’s deeper questions, it simply described the mechanics of the universe without being able to touch upon meaning or the simple question “why?”.I began to see that the worldview of the naturalistic atheists had just as many unspoken assumptions and “beliefs” as that of the fundamentalistic faith I had left behind. So I still wasn’t satisfied with the answers they gave. I began to notice the way they covered up troublesome issues in just the same way that I had covered up inconsistencies with bible verses during my student years.It was at this time that I discovered the work of M. Scott Peck and James Fowler on the Stages of Faith. They explained how it’s not unheard of for people to transition from one stage of faith to another, and that it takes such crises as I had undergone to initiate this. Indeed, according to Fowler’s model I was in stage 3 – that of being skeptical and realising that there are other “boxes” than the belief system I had zealously defended my whole life.I breathed a sigh of relief – I wasn’t deranged, or backslidden. It was just that my hunger for transcendence, for “god”, for ultimate reality, had outgrown the “scaffolding” of the conservative faith which had sustained me through the first part of adult life.I studied spirituality from all around the world, desperately seeking truth. I was the Fool, stepping off the cliff, knowing that I had to step off the cliff in order to find reality. And as the world opened out to me in freefall, I began to realise that I was not alone. The mystics of the world had already trodden this path, and had left clues for others to follow, but clues which could only be sen by those who were ready for them.
It slowly dawned on my how uncomfortable a place it is to lose one’s boundaries, one’s sense of belonging and community, and how human it is to seek that again. On internet forums, I followed the journeys of those who lost their evangelical faith and became ardent atheists, dedicating their lives to trying to de-convert others with just as much zeal as they had once tried to convert them. I saw others stop worshiping Jesus and start worshiping Odin or Cernunnos or Hecate with just as much devotion as they had once offered Jesus. None of this satisfied me, I wasn’t just looking to change camps, I was seeking ultimate reality, so my quest led me onward, beyond these tribal wars of worldview and belonging.
As Rushdie said in the quote above, I had stepped (or rather been forced) out of the box of the reality I knew. I didn’t want another box to go back into.
At this time I came across several spiritual teachers from different traditions, talking about Mystery. They didn’t have all the answers to life’s big questions, but they seemed to be speaking from a place of deep peace and contentment, unlike the fanatics with their boxes. These mystics were able to hold on to paradox, they could talk about two or three entirely contradictory things, and be ok that these issues couldn’t be resolved. In the same breath, they seemed to be able to say that the universe had ultimate meaning, and that the universe was completely meaningless and random, and be ok with holding the space between these utter contradictions.
I was intrigued. Where did they get this peace from? How could they be ok with such contradictory paradoxes? I was finally ready to listen to them now that I had lost all my assumptions and stepped out into the void of unknowing.
This mystic space of mystery and unknowing is a very vulnerable place to inhabit, but after many years of seeking I am finding my identity here. Peck categorises this as coming to a mystical level of faith. On the one hand, as soon as I say “I am a mystic”, that can become a set of assumptions, fixed beliefs as to what a mystic is, so if I’m not careful I’ll just rebuild another box around myself and find myself back in a dogmatic box again. So that’s one danger to avoid.On the other hand, I am now able to love, accept and engage in intelligent discussion with people of all races and faiths, or none. I couldn’t do this when I saw my box as “right” and their boxes as “wrong”. I love my Muslim brother and listen excitedly as he explains the solace he finds in reciting the Shahada. I love my atheist sister, and am able to converse fluently with her about how science proves without a doubt that god does not exist. I have been reconciled to my fundamentalist christian friends and can once again engage in bible study with them. I can converse with Buddhists about my inner experiences in meditation, and the times I have transcended thought and entered into the formless realms of jhana. I see the good in all, and also know that if they want to, they too can lift their eyes and come to transcendence.
The problem, and the vulnerability with this love and acceptance of all is that each faction wants to own me, to pull me back into their box. That seems to be the only way they have of loving me fully, and they feel that they must either suck me back in to being a true believer, or see me as backsliding, or brand me a heretic. They are trying to place me one side or another of the arbitrary lines which they have drawn, and cannot comprehend that I have transcended their lines and boundaries entirely. Going back into a box is something which I simply cannot do – I’m like an ex-pat child who never fully identifies with her host culture, but who has seen too much of the world to identify with her parent’s home culture either. The only people who understand her are other ex-pat kids. Somehow, it’s only amongst other mystics that I feel a real sense of being understood. This is as true of those who are alive today as it is of those of the past. As Rumi said:
“Define and narrow me, you starve yourself of yourself.Nail me down in a box of cold words, that box is your coffin.”
But although it’s vulnerable to be here in this unknowing, it’s also a place of great spaciousness and love, a place where the anger and judgement in my own heart has been let go of. It’s a place where I find it easy to let go of the hurt that others cause me in their ignorance. It is a broad, open land of love and light, this dwelling place of the mystics. If I try to describe it, I nail it down and lose it immediately. So instead, I’ll close this reflection with the words of Rumi again, hoping that his poetry will bring this feeling through in a way my dry words cannot:
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,there is a field. I’ll meet you there.When the soul lies down in that grass,the world is too full to talk about.Ideas, language, even the phrase “each other”doesn’t make any sense.The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.Don’t go back to sleep.”
This beautiful mystic field is a place of awakening. May I not go back to sleep.
Peace and blessings to you today.