Mystic Without a Monastery

Yesterday’s post left me wanting….to say more, to share more, to open those spaces that live so deep inside ourselves we live in too much fear of what might happen when we open them up. Time was short, I felt I had much to say, and while in the middle of writing I realized I was touching upon bits and pieces that truly were an entire sharing of their own. It’s one of those times when it felt as though many threads were lined up waiting for their turn to be woven into the written story, only to find themselves all jumbled up into one great ball of ‘stuff.’

I’m not sure just where to go from there, how to unwind it all, approaching each piece as its own even while maintaining some semblance of Flow. So that’s it, isn’t it? Flow. Let go of trying to make sense of it all and allow IT to move ME. Become as the reed that moves with the wind or downstream with the river’s currents, and allow myself to become One with the Flow.

It was an odd thing to share some of the intimacy of my own sacred connection. And yet, what you cannot realize is how much the discomfort has loosened since it began to really push its way into my expression earlier this year. I believe we fear it somehow–the intensity of communing with the Divine. To me it feels like it would be okay if I were a nun in a convent somewhere, safe–normal, part of everyone else who felt the way I did. It would be natural there, then wouldn’t it? Acceptable, expected. But out here in this world, to love so deeply, to desire so profoundly to be merged with a Presence that calms every cell in our being–well, that just feels a little bit strange to be sharing ‘out loud.’ But what I’m sensing is that more and more of us are experiencing this aching sensation. We are answering the call to listen to the longing that comes from within.

From the very first time I heard of St. Teresa of Avila I was drawn to her. Something about her deep love of her Beloved, her ecstatic experiences of becoming one in ways we don’t speak of in our world resonated. It happened years before when watching Agnes of God. Agnes wasn’t afraid or embarrassed to say how much she loved God, even as she was inexplicably pregnant with His child. Her energy, the vulnerability with which she expressed her deep desire to be one with the Divine spoke to me even though I would have been just 14 years old. What does one do with such devotion?

I find myself again feeling many posts on this topic and perhaps a little jumbled as the words rush forward all at once, and to me it feels as though I’ve opened a dialogue that has been anxiously waiting to begin. What happens to us when we carry such deep, deep longing for intimate connection with the Beloved? How do we come to reconcile that in our lives, and what are the substitutes that fill the void? This very question has framed so much of my own journey, without my even being aware of it even while it happened.

I believe many of us carry the ache in our souls, but not everyone feels it in the same way. Different energies accompany us on our way, determining just how we play out our purpose on this planet. There’s much I’d like to explore on this topic, and I hope you’ll take the journey with me and share your own experience. For those of us who feel the profound longing, we are in today’s world ‘mystics without monasteries’ in the words of Caroline Myss. We are living in a time when the energy of the mystic is needed in the everyday places of our world, in our families, with our friends, our workplaces, around the globe and in our own homes. It’s time to let the voices be heard, to live it out loud. THIS is our time. Time to allow the Beloved to be seen, felt and heard through us, as us, ONE with us. The merging has begun. And I pray for clarity and eloquence as we continue the dialogue together.