Okay, so here goes a bit about that dang "mystical experience" that washed through me a few weeks ago. I really hate calling it that, it sounds so pretentious, but really, it's what they are. Definition of a mystical experience: a happening inside (or outside. heh :) ) body-mind that is an assertion of What Is and is a part of the Waking Up process from our belief in this projected world that we call Reality. People have them every day, but cover their impact up with drugs (like alcohol, sugar, coffee) or other noise/distractions (like overeating, excitement, emotional drama, rampant Doing of Stuff, and general accumulated numbness). Tuning out of your mystical experiences/happenings (MH's) don't matter really. Being Lost in Reality or Waking Up are both fine and good, it's whatever we feel to do, and that's cool. And my abiding passion is about waking up, about burrowing in and discovering what is really real, and what is shadows and smoke, and so for me, these mystical happenings are like bright blips in the video game, like Sonic The Hedgehog jumping around collecting flowers or bursts of light to enable access to the next level of the game.
I used to have Full Tilt MH's where I got lost in the bliss and/or information downloading into me. I'd flail around or cry or laugh hysterically or all sorts of dramatic whatnot. And then there were the exchanges with clients that used to be like watching Spiritual TV and I was one of the characters acting out the scene. Now I just watch. My consciousness does this Popping thing to let me know the games have commenced and then I sit back and watch as the event unfolds.
They usually seem to be around some aspect of Reality with the MH as a sort of fieldwork module where I get to see the gears turning behind the machine that is The World. . .
Sidebar: Am I being confusing? I'm not sure how far along you guys are in terms of what you see and don't see and I don't want to bore the bejeezus out of you if your eyes have seen the Nothing, but it also seems important that everybody can follow along. Okay, how about this: the movies The Thirteenth Floor, Groundhog Day, and The Matrix Trilogy pretty much sum it up (I'm still reeling that The Matrix movies got made - what a hilarious coup! :) So if you feel inclined, go see these, but this time with the intention: I Am Being Educated As To The Nature of Reality. I could recommend a bunch of books, such as Jed McKenna's Spirituality is The Damnedest Thing or anything by Ken Wilber, but movies really cut to the heart of things and jack into the brain and heart much more efficiently. Okay, onward:
. . . so these MHs occur and I watch the wheels turn. Sometimes it's funny or beautiful, but usually it is horrific. As in some sacred belief about myself or others or What It All Means gets slowly, patiently, and quite efficiently torn to shreds. (Like soulmates, or human love, or compassion, or being nice, or being spiritual, or enlightenment: it's all bullshit, you know. And if you think any of these is true, then you have just displayed where you are stuck in the game of the projected world . . .) But this last go around? The sacred cow up for sacrifice: people. Or more specifically their personalities. Including my own. And how ridiculous we all are. I'd like to say that what I was seeing was the loveliness that lies inside of people, how we are all little buddhas running around with our asses on cosmic fire, but that was last decade, All Yang All The Time, this decade is about the Yin and Kali and Arjuna taking up the sword .
This is how it rolled around:
It built for several years, with glimpses here and there, both with myself and with others. It was a sense of not being quite real, a feeling that something was off, amiss, false. A couple of weeks ago, during my last week at the internship, it popped and I got the whole show. Intellectually, I've known about it for a while, but seeing it live and up close? Dang: We are made up characters, running our scripts on each other, on ourselves, mostly completely oblivious as to this fact. The MH pulled me completely out of the show, so that I found myself completely conscious that I was Sitting in the Theater of the World watching the play entitled Snippet of Life in the Cancer Program, Albany, NY, August of 2006. I watched as people did these prescribed hand movements (thumbs up, hand on heart, way of holding fork when eating) and phrases (it's all good, how was your weekend?, good job! ) and emotional stances (sensitive to other's needs, giver of advice, the quiet one) deemed currently Acceptable and Hip. I watched as people, having discovered what role I often played, that of Listener, came up to me and began talking, running the same scripts they always did about boyfriend or hobby, tale of past woe or present complaint.
It only lasted for a few hours, and then I slowly faded back into believing in my own realness, and seeing others as people and not just characters, but the spell is broken, and I'm not sure what to do.
I'd like to say I have some sort of closure around this stuff, that some sort of cosmic lightbulb came on, and that I am on to something of more sweetness and light. But mostly what has transpired has made it even harder for me to want to be around others, and when I do I'm somewhat withdrawn or if it's someone I've been close with in the past I make the effort and assert the script that I've always played with them. But it isn't much fun, and I'd rather be off by myself riding my bike, or watching movies, or dancing with the furry weasels, or preparing a mozzarella and tomato salad with fresh basil and balsamic vinegar. And it makes writing difficult as I'm not sure what to say, and afraid that saying what is really going on will make things even more unpleasant. And it makes trying to be a good friend or doing holistic work really hard as the endless complaining and power plays and regurgitated spiritual cliches (everything happens for a reason, my path is a heart path) is all just so ludicrous that I'd rather be hanging out with a nailgun gone rogue.
Don't I sound like fun? It's a good thing I'm still decently cute or I'd be lonely indeed . . . :)
Yeah. So, that was my mystical experience. Another bead in the collection. Life boogies on. This too shall pass.
Next on the blogging agenda: the exorcism of ghosts of boyfriends past was a success! Details to come . . .