The Mystic – Redefined.
A mystic is not a teacher. Not because he lacks wisdom or knowledge; but because his process, the way he approaches life does not happen in the mind. It does not happen in the realm of questions and answers. Does not happen in a place where formulation of precise articulation and repetitive gestures can occur.
When you approach a mystic and want to “learn” the ways of the mystical realms, you need to come empty handed and infinitely curious. Curious but allowing your mind to be question-less. To be a question mark, yet do not expect answers which will feed your river of whys and hows.
The interaction or relationship to a mystic is a process of un-learning. Unlearning what you believe your limitations to be, and a remembrance that all that is shown and experienced has been primordially felt, known, lived through you – by you before. It’s a constant sense of “hmm… I know this already” or “I remember…”. It’s a process of discovery, or re-discovery and not of acquiring more information, more names and definitions.
It’s a deep experience of self, of reliance, of self-trust, of doubting anything which has been labeled, consciously or unconsciously as a definition of who you are. It’s a deep sense of pride, of self-acceptance and love. Of a deep soul level knowing that you have no purpose but your life is full of meaning.
So many gurus, spiritual teachers, roshis and masters to this day, maintain the old paradigm – the need for the seeker to surrender to authority. To an external figure which will deliver them from sin. From karma. From past lives or incarnations. From our devilish ego. Yet that process, in its entirety still resides and thoroughly feeds the sense of separation and disrepair. It nurtures a deep dependence, robbing you of your innate beauty and sense of freedom. All in the name of a tomorrow, a promised land of revelation, enlightenment, delivery from a limited, temporary and painful state of being.
The mystic doesn’t know. They don’t hold the answers to the mysteries of the universe. The mystic wonders and revels in these mysteries. The mystics across all history were those who celebrated the unknown, offered rose petals to the rivers of life held and witness the enchanting tears of women, they embrace their loved ones as they exhale their last final breath.
The mystic feels. A mystic recognizes your depth of spirit; they see themselves in you.
For a mystic there is no separation, you and your challenges are their own. Your vices and virtues, your depth of desire and human-ness. For a mystic robbing you from being alive — and kicking — would be a painful process of abusing themselves. It would be walking the absolute opposite direction to roaming free within the skies of their own being. The old paradigm of the all-knowing, all-powerful guru was a deeply conflicted and destructive process. It leads to the horrible exploitation of the seeker and in turn, the deep corruption and ultimately the downfall of the teacher.
The teacher; unknowingly committing themselves to live behind the bars of pretension, deceit and the need to live a double life. On one hand, the perfect enlightened preacher, and on the other — the hidden bruised child who seeks attention, who wants to play, to dance, to enjoy life in its fullness. The conflict grows deeper as this child is given almost infinite power and willing participants to reciprocate in this sad tale of painful demise and hurtful exploitation.
In this beautiful process of spiritual awakening, the mystic is needed. But not as a guide or a teacher. Not as an instructor telling you what you should or should not do or be. The mystic is an artist. Using their own souls as a canvas for raw inspiration. Inspiring you to look within, to explore your musical potential, inspiring you to sing, to dance, to bring forth your own colors to light. In their presence you will feel creative, in muse, in-spirit. For meeting someone who’s in tune with their own song can inspire nothing else but your own symphony, your own shapes and hues.
When you meet a mystic, drink their presence, enjoy the evening’s setting sun, but immediately rush back to your own palette, to your own drawing board, in the same way you get inspired by listening to music. It wouldn’t inspire you to write the same exact song… it would inspire a dance, a poem, an idea of it’s own volition. That is the meaning of the tree of life. We all originate from the same one source, yet branch out to infinite expressions, some as leaves, others as flowers and fruit, and some drift with the wind and blossom into an entirely new tree.
When listening to a mystic speak; when seeing a mystic dance or create; always remember – drink from the well of life but fly onward with your own wind of creativity, Allow, take in, but let those seeds blossom in your own unique expression. Mystics are white clouds. They travel the skies, showering their precious joyful tears, unaware of their purpose or direction. They just give; they just shower their love. Unconcerned if the foliage and trees receive them or not. If you are a tree, drink those tears and grow, if you are a river, absorb and flow into life. If you are an ocean, allow the process to cycle and complete. And if you are a cloud — just be, flow with the wind and cry as you see fit.
The mystic isn’t made or crafted. It is truly a cloud. You can’t shape yourself into becoming a mystic. A mystic is a fully blossomed and wholesome soul. It is the moment you are ready to gift yourself with the gift of yourself. Understanding the fullness and richness of your spirit. Unconcerned with the need to shift your shape or form. You tendencies or direction. You float, allow, accept. A cloud will never complain of its unshapely form, or ask for more rain than it can hold. A cloud is just a cloud. Not special and not plain. Neither humble nor heroic.
There is however one characteristic that is usually quite apparent… the tendency to shower your inner being. But that would be a symptom of your cloud-ity, not an action you can take. Not a practice in cloud-ness or mastery over cloud-ing… Mysticism isn’t a practice; it’s not even a journey. It is a state of a full, overflowing heart.
Becoming a mystic isn’t an achievement either; as foretold by teachers of the past. It is seeing that which was always there, an awareness of a sense of beauty and gratitude to just being without effort. Something that each and every one of us in our innate inner selves experiences when ever we choose to. Sometimes we see that only at the risk of loss, or endangerment of that we believe we have. But the sense of awe, of appreciation to life, is always there – if you are aware of it consciously or not. To be you, isn’t an achievement, it is your birth-right. It’s truly all you can ever be. It’s all that your mind, body and soul crave and long for with every ounce of spirit.
There’s nothing to learn from a mystic, no technique or philosophy. There is nothing more a mystic can give you. All they can do is point your own finger back to yourself.