Into the Mystic

Because, why not?

Painting by Laura Marshall

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I’ve always been fascinated by all things Other-Worldly. I suspect this was kindled by my mother’s championing of clairvoyants, tarot cards and an avid belief in life after death. One of my great uncles (not known to me) might even have been a Medium, she once hinted proudly, although my brother drily observed that he may have been an Extra Large ... We just don’t know.

I actually only knew one of my grandparents but their large head and shoulder photographs were on the wall in golden frames and I would sometimes sit crosslegged in front of them, watching closely until I fancied that I could see my grandad’s lips moving and indeed, that he was talking to me.

I remember this so clearly and how natural it seemed. Comforting, even. He seemed very nice.

There were other things too. When I was seventeen, I recall sitting alone on the side of the bed, just home from school. My mother was in hospital at the time and close to the end of her life. The image of this particular day is still sharp in my mind: the way the weak light slanted through the gauzy curtains of the room, a purple velvet chair close by, the nubbiness of the bedspread against my bare legs and the time of day, about 4pm.

In my peripheral vision, I suddenly saw the outline of a woman, quivering like bad reception from an old school television. She wore a long straight dress c1930s and was visibly distressed. I sat frozen, too startled to react. But most striking of all was her hair: two buns twisted tightly on either side of her head like great ear muffs. She was wringing her hands and reaching out to me but then suddenly, she disappeared like a stone slowly sinking from sight underwater.

I know how unhinged this all sounds and I hope that readers are not collectively reaching to tap the ‘Unsubscribe’ button, but here’s the thing. When I visited my mum and shared this story, her eyes widened and then filled up. She told me that her own mother had often worn her hair just that way. Yet I had never met - or even heard much about this lovely grandmother who had passed away in her forties when my own mother, strangely, was also seventeen. And yes, there were a few photos which I might have seen to influence all this, but NONE showed that very distinctive hairstyle.

(Also, incidentally, this was my other grandmother and not the one pictured with my chatty grandad as described earlier …)

Finally, a few years after my mum had passed away, her sister shared casually with me that she too had once “seen” her mother. Auntie Eff, as she was known, was up during the night with her son, a baby at the time, and he was very ill with a high fever. Her own mother, in apparition form, had appeared and stood by the crib beside her while she watched. She leaned over to touch his face, before fading from view. I asked to hear this story over and over, hoping for more detail, but my Auntie was very matter-of-fact about the whole thing as if it was not especially noteworthy. (She did add that the baby was significantly improved by the morning).

True mystical experiences - as opposed to witnessing psychic phenomena - are also especially intriguing to me and I’ve sought out books on some of the more obvious mystics - Julian of Norwich, Hildegard of Bingen, Meister Eckhart - over the years.

But one of my favourites (for those who are still awake) is Richard Maurice Bucke’s Cosmic Consciousness published in 1901 and offering a more ‘recent’ mystical account. Bucke was an interesting character. A psychiatrist himself and heavily influenced by his friend Walt Whitman, he introduced much kinder and effective methodologies to his patients by allowing them access to the outside grounds of the asylum he presided over and assigning them simple gardening tasks. This was unheard of at the time, when full-on restraints were the usual “cure.”

But in 1872 Bucke had a mystical experience that changed his life:

Directly afterward there came upon me a sense of exultation, of immense joyousness accompanied or immediately followed by an intellectual illumination impossible to describe. Among other things, I did not merely come to believe, but I saw that the universe is not composed of dead matter, but is, on the contrary, a living Presence; I became conscious in myself of eternal life. It was not a conviction that I would have eternal life, but a consciousness that I possessed eternal life then.

---

This is impressive coming from someone of Bucke’s intellect and even more so, since he clearly had nothing to gain and much to lose by making up a random sensational story.

I am neither sage nor seer (depending on who you ask!) but over my own life, I’ve come to believe that something exists in between a full-on mystical experience and regular joy: it’s a fleeting, flickering awareness that visits, only for a moment or two and hints that our lives are full of meaning, even though we absolutely remain, (and please do click on the following link, as it is just so stunning if you have never seen the photo) a mere dust mote in the grand scheme of things.

But more significantly, this feeling brings an assurance that there might actually BE a grand scheme of things.

And believe me, I’ve been trying to re-ignite that feeling daily for some time now, given the current state of the world.

Here is just a quick sampler pack of the unlikely, insignificant situations that have provoked such a feeling. I was entering a shop in Mexico selling Talavera ware a few years ago and the beautiful assistant turned to greet me. She was just lighting an incense wand and that’s when it hit me. A pure, perfect crystalline happiness, the kind you never want to dissolve, never believing you will feel another way going forward. Like falling in love, only more so.

The Mexican Talavera Shop - every wall featured something different

Other minor occasions include watching a flock of pelicans at close range, being out on a magical boat excursion to see Puffins and whales in Newfoundland and more recently, when I interrupted my Terrier from pinning down a rabbit in our garden. Once I had put the dog inside, the little rabbit remained, carefully watching me. He maintained eye contact long enough for me to check that he had not been harmed in any way and certainly not bleeding, though I watched the steady ticking of his heart through his fur. (I do understand that rabbits will remain motionless when they’ve afraid but this fellow had LOTS of time to make a break for it as any sensible rabbit would, after staring down a wild-eyed Terrier-ist at very close range!)

We locked eyes for what seemed like ages before he frisked away, leaving me standing there in awe, feeling the feeling.

A good friend recently observed that humans are, after all, just animals and as such, like lions and wolves, we too are already kitted out with special intuitions. How often have you woken up in the night with a vague sense of unease, especially surrounding one’s children, only to have the feeling confirmed later in the day with a troubled text or phone call? Or the opposite - sometimes I can sense that something good is coming down the line days before it happens.

We often hear this gift being attributed to women and apparently, it becomes more pronounced with age. This explains the reverence for “crones” in other cultures and time slots, when older women were admired and sought out for their wisdom, instead of being judged for their ability to [still] look tight as a drum in a bathing suit.

From an ancient book featuring The Little Mermaid.

I feel as though I have taken a bit of an artistic risk today but I cannot accept that I am on my own with all this. I have much older intellectual brothers so I am accustomed to the scoffing ridicule this kind of “flakey” thinking usually brings on.

But guess what? I wrote it anyway.

Have you ever had a mystical anything? Do you feel more attuned as you age?

P.S. Julian Barnes has written brilliantly about death in Nothing to be Frightened Of: A Memoir. It’s sensitive, intelligent and thought-provoking.

Thank you so much for being here, friend.

Please consider pressing LIKE ❤️ if you enjoyed this post to make my spirits soar.

Comments are always extremely welcome.