The Mystic’s Path

“What many spiritual belief systems seem to have in common is what is often called the “journey within”, and I would agree that it is probably the most difficult journey of all. So easy is it to focus entirely on all our faults, mistakes, bad decisions, etc. that we can get “stuck” there… coming out of that into acceptance and self-love is often the longest and most difficult part of that journey.

“So much happens that is entirely out of our control… our parents die, our friends die, someday we too will die… hurricanes and tsunamis happen… governments and guerrillas wage war and it’s often those who had no part in any conflict who are the victims… experiencing all of that, even vicariously through reading the news can be horribly negative and lead to feelings of depression, powerlessness, and helplessness. That’s our kryptonite, much as most of us don’t really like Superman’s perfection, even he has a fatal flaw.

“And the gods and goddesses, whether they are real or simply creations of our own minds (I’m not here to debate that topic), whisper all around us… in the sound of wind through the trees, or the chirping of birds, or the aroma of fresh air after a rain storm… and so many of us go on in this rush-rush lifestyle of work, eat, sleep, work, repetitive cycle of existence that perhaps we are no longer listening to them, or hearing what they might advise.

“Things often do get a little unsettling when we forget who we are, where we are, what we are doing, why we are doing it. Just when things are going along swimmingly, something else we hadn’t noticed asserts itself: reality.

“Mystics do not describe enlightenment, they illuminate it. They help you recognize the path, they don’t put you on the path… because you were never really off it, you just didn’t See it. No one can give you enlightenment, teach you what it is; it must be discovered.”

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the fumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

— “High Flight” by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

This was something I posted over at one of the threads on Newsvine today.