Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Undisciplined Mysticism

I find that I am tired from years of the discipline required to earn my doctorate. In all those years of jumping through hoops, I clipped my wings a bit and so I have been cynical, weary, cold. In all those years of explaining what I know, I have half forgotten the joy of just feeling it. It is a difficult task to intellectualize mysticism. I'm half-drunk and dizzy from twisting my tongue around the master's words. So just for now, I offer this, two ancient poems from ancient lands and one from my own ancient past before I learned to think properly. Such is what my heart is still singing while my words build brittle bridges.

Makeda, Queen of Sheba (1000 B.C.)

I fell
because of wisdom,
but was not destroyed:
through her I dived
into the great sea,
and in those depths
I seized
a wealth-bestowing pearl.

I descended
like a great iron anchor
men use to steady their ships
in the night on rough seas,
and holding up the bright lamp
that I there received,
I climbed the rope
to the boat of understanding.

While in the dark sea,
I slept,
and not overwhelmed there,
dreamt: a star
blazed in my womb

I marveled
at that light,
and grasped it,
and brought it up to the sun.
I laid hold upon it,
and will not let it go.

Mahadeviyakka (12th century)

I do not call it his sign
I do not call it becoming one with his sign
I do not call it union,
I do not call it harmony with union.
I do not say something has happened.
I do not say nothing has happened.
I will not name it You.
I will not name it I.
Now that the White Jasmine Lord is myself,
what use for words at all?


And this from me when I was still a girl:


I felt Her
touch me today
Reaching through my body
with white fire hands
that cooled sweetly
at the touch
of my soul
who gasped
before spreading itself palm to palm
to Her touch.
It sighed,
a choking kind of sigh-
was filled-
was filled-
before She drew away
Leaving me the
dazzling
vision
of sunlight on a white pebble
in the grass.

3 comments:

Lone Star Ma said...

These are all three lovely.

I go up and down wildly - mystic, exhausted cynic and back again...

Hystery said...

Yes. Me too. Last night I was very despairing although I find that in times of deepest despair, my heart yearns most sincerely for the Divine.

Bright Crow said...

Dear One,

A sort of contrapuntal story for you:

When I was in severe clinical depression in 2007, my connection with the Divine was the only think keeping me sane (see here).

I started on Zoloft and was back to a chemically-induced "normal" by February of 2008.

Since then, ironically, I've regained my balance and my sense of humor yet felt that the Divine had diminished into more of an idea than a real Presence.

Last month I decided to come off the Zoloft. I've been completely off for a week now.

Teaching dreams, waking thrills and stories sprung full-blown have returned.

I know the Divine is more than brain chemistry, but what strange permutations!

Bless├Ęd Be,
Bright Crow