When we open our hearts and quiet our minds, we can experience God’s presence in powerful ways. It starts with paying attention.
When I hear the word mystic, I tend to think of great saints such as Hildegard of Bingen, John of the Cross, or Teresa of Avila. Each of them experienced profound encounters with God, often describing them in poetic ways. As with sainthood, being a mystic seems to be a state reserved for extraordinary people.
But suppose that you and I can also become mystics. Is this even possible? It is if we begin by understanding that mystical experiences are not merely some emotional response to mystery and beauty. Rather, these experiences are rooted in a faith that sees God as manifest in our lives in a meaningful way every single day. If, on a daily basis, we open our minds and hearts to God’s presence, then we become open to the gift of mystical experience.
This has been a hard lesson for me, as I like to be in control. One time, for example, I headed out to the Guadalupe Mountains, about 90 miles from El Paso. I had visited this place often and had some remarkable mystical encounters with wildlife. On this particular day, I set out planning to have a mystical experience. None happened. As I prepared to follow the trail down from the mountains, I thought, It’s not going to happen today, and let go of the expectation. In that moment of letting go, I took a last look around and there was a young deer watching me! I could almost hear God chuckling. Only by accepting that I was unable to manufacture a mystical experience could I become open to one.
Sensing God
Many of these experiences have indeed come to me when I have been away from day-to-day living. So, to become a mystic, must I become like Henry David Thoreau or John Muir and retreat to the wilderness? Here Rabbi David Wolpe’s notion of “the normal mystic” is very helpful: “In the eye of another human being, in the daily activity of average people, the normal mystic seeks the presence of God. . . . The normal mystic looks at life as you and I know it, but with an acute eye, one that tracks the almost imperceptible or often overlooked suggestion of God in every corner, at each turn” (The Healer of Shattered Hearts).
Rabbi Wolpe’s reflections remind us that we can sense God’s presence in the ordinary as well as in the spectacular. Essential to mystical experience is the sense of connection, not only to God in some personal way, but also to God in the angry driver in the car next to me, in the homeless veteran on the street corner, in the brother or sister addict struggling to get on the path of recovery. Clearly, I feel connected to the people I love. But mystical experience reminds me that we are all connected, and the source of that connection is God.
Here we begin to get a sense of why people are not in such a hurry to pursue the mystic’s way. If I truly aspire to become a mystic, then I am embracing not just the wonder. I am embracing the pain. For to feel a connection is to feel pain as well as wonder. Mysticism may be the experience of wonder, but it also can be the experience of deep compassion grounded in a faith that understands God’s presence in pain. I work as a clinical psychologist, and so you might assume that experiences of mystical compassion happen often in my work. They don’t. I definitely try to treat everyone I see with respect and empathy. But, occasionally and unexpectedly, I feel a deeper connection to someone and to his or her pain that goes beyond therapeutic conversation. I can’t predict it.
This happened just this morning. I met with a young veteran who had a horrific experience that involved a heroic effort he made to rescue his friend from a burning vehicle. Sadly, I have heard such stories before. But for some reason this young man’s story touched me at a deeper level.
Mystical experience can also be just a little unsettling. Recall that one of the mystical saints I mentioned was John of the Cross. His best-known work is The Dark Night of the Soul, in which he cautions that the road to mystical connection with God can include a sense of deep separation from God, even God’s absence. We can’t fully identify and embrace God’s presence unless we also know God’s absence.
Very unsettling. In a similar vein, mystical experience can include a deep sense of horror in the face of tragedy. Perhaps as you watched the towers fall on 9/11, you had a sense of horrific awe that defied words.
Hardwired for Mysticism
If you still doubt that you are fully capable of mystical experience, perhaps a little science will help convince you. Several researchers of the brain have explored neurological aspects of meditation and spiritual practices. What they found is fascinating. When one meditates, one part of the brain called the parietal lobe decreases its activity. This is a part of the brain that gives us a sense of self and separateness from others. When this part of the brain is damaged or “goes dark,” the result is a sense of connection that is the essence of mystical experience. Similarly, when meditators focus on “heart meditation” that involves reflecting on those we love, parts of the brain that relate to empathy become more active.
Some people object to what they call reducing God to neurology. To me, these scientific insights have quite the opposite effect. They strongly suggest that the Creator built into us the type of brain functioning that can provide a deeper connection to the God of our understanding. The fact that we all appear to be hardwired for mystical experience is for me dramatic affirmation that God exists and wants a deep mystical connection with each of us.
Doorways to the Divine
Given the spontaneity of mystical experience, is there any type of practice that can nonetheless help us develop that capacity? We are more open to mystical experience when we pay attention. This process can be helped by having some way of quieting our minds, usually through some form of meditation. Most of us have within our heads a constant flow of chatter made up of things to be done, worries, daydreams, and a variety of noise. Quieting that is no easy task.
We Catholics have available to us an effective meditative tool for quieting our minds—the rosary. The repetitive nature of the rosary can have a calming effect on our minds, especially if we allow our breathing to relax as we pray.
In a similar way, other types of meditation involve quieting our minds by trying to keep focused on our breathing, a piece of music, a work of religious art, etc. The trick here is to not get annoyed when your focus drifts away to what you’re going to have for dinner or which bill needs to be paid. When that happens, gently bring your focus back. You may also find “heart meditation” appealing. In this approach, one quiets oneself and focuses on a heart filled with love flowing out to others. By quieting one’s mind, it becomes more open to hearing God and thereby experience the mystical.
Don’t forget: Prayer is talking to God while meditation is listening to God.
Becoming more aware of your senses also opens you up to the mystical. How often do you eat your food without tasting it? Fail to see the sunset on your ride home from work? Not listen to a loved one because of the noise inside your head? I am guilty of all of these ways of not being in touch with my senses. My son Ben taught me an important lesson in that regard. Once, he came into my home office to talk. As he did so, I kept glancing at the computer to the point where Ben asked, “Dad, can I have your full attention?” The mystical way does indeed open up when we devote our full attention.
Recently, my wife and I were hiking through the Santa Elena Canyon in the aforementioned Guadalupe Mountains. We were filled with awe and joy such that my wife said, “I feel like singing.” And so, as loud as we could, we sang “Amazing Grace.” As we finished, my wife pointed to the top of the canyon walls. Several hawks were circling as if giving us an “Amen.” In that moment, I felt a deep connection to the canyon, to the hawks, to my wife, and especially to God.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am no saint. But in that glorious moment, I was a grateful mystic. I encourage you to become open to the possibility of mysticism as a special faith-enriching part of your spiritual journey. You don’t have to go to a monastery or even to a national park. Just pay attention and remember that God is a God of plenty.
Monasteries and national parks can indeed be doorways to the divine. But you can find just as many doorways to the divine in your hometown. That’s how God planned it.
Mysticism 101
William James, in his classic work The Varieties of Religious Experience, identifies four elements that define an experience as mystical:
1. INEFFABLE. By and large, as one tries to articulate a mystical experience, he or she finds words inadequate. As Rabbi Abraham Heschel said, “To become aware of the ineffable is to part company with words.” If you are a parent, for example, try to put into words the experience of seeing any of your children for the first time. As I try to express how filled my heart was, I can only shake my head at how my words fall short.
2. NOETIC. They give us glimpses of deeper truths beyond what our intellects can define. For me and perhaps for you, certain experiences have given me an experience of God far different from what I might read or study. At the very least, through mystical experience I might sense God’s power, the deep beauty of all creation, even a sense of deep connection to God’s creation.
3. TRANSIENT. As much as I might wish, I can’t hold on to such an experience. It passes. But, as James later notes, some memory of the experience lingers and can modify my inner life. Again we see the connection between mysticism and faith. As I reflect on these moments, I am reflecting on my evolving relationship with God.
4. PASSIVE. We can’t manufacture them, as much as we might try.
