Mystic Musings: Lent 3/19
“One day He did not leave after kissing me.”
Rabia of Basra, an 8th century Sufi mystic and saint
Photo by Alexis Presa @alexispresa
I can still remember as clear as day the moment when the veil between heaven and earth dropped for a bit. I was grinding my mountain bike up a dirt road in Lake County, California. It was about a 1,000-foot elevation gain with numerous areas where the gradient was 10%. I was always both exhausted and exhilarated when I reached the top. I had ridden the route many times before and had developed a bit of a ritual. When I had reached the top and looked out over the other side into the Ukiah valley of dozens of vineyards, I would take a deep breath and then say, “Thank you, God.”
Except this time, something was different. I don’t know how to explain it except to say that the line between observer and observed melted away. I wasn’t looking at some scenery outside of myself. I had melted into the scenery, God had melted into me, and, for the briefest of moments, I couldn’t tell where my soul ended and God’s soul began.
Photo by Jeremy Bishop @jeremybishop
I felt like our souls had fused. In the words of Rabia, I felt kissed and caressed by God. And then, as fast as it arrived, the experience evaporated away like mist. I once again was aware of the exhaustion in my legs and the burning in my lungs. I knew that I was above the vineyards and they were below me—the normal categories of observer and observed returned.
When I read the poetry, the lyrics and the writings of the mystics I think I can see what is driving them. It is clear that at least once in their life they have felt kissed by God and the sensation is so ecstatic and delicious that they spend the rest of their lives seeking God’s face, yearning for God’s touch and begging for God’s lips again.
Here is what I know. These kinds of mystical experiences aren’t reserved for special moments and places, although they do seem to occur more frequently when all the conditions are just right. What I know is that the line between heaven and earth and the human and the divine is always blurry. What I also know is that 99.99% of the time we move through life as if we are billiard balls experiencing ourselves as objects separated from each other. But I think our true nature is just material manifestations of spiritual qualities like beauty, goodness, love, grace and divine connection.
God is boundary-less. And every so often, if we allow ourselves, the veil between heaven and earth disappears. When that happens, we can’t help but to beg for more.
Sit quietly. Breathe deeply. Ponder no questions.
Notice your thoughts and then give them permission to leave.
Notice your feelings and breathe more deeply into them.
Imagine there is no separation between your breath and God.
Imagine your breath is God.
God in. God out. God in. God out. God in. God out.