Part Three: Wandering in the realm of the non-ordinary
The numen: an unspeakable dance of ten
thousand
Creating gods
Public and private metaphors
Telling stories that allow more creatively
exquisite outcomes
How to find your spiritual master
Heretical thoughts
Psycho-visceral presence
Miracles, delusions, and ineffective beliefs
The manifestation of a god who disappears
The numen: an unspeakable dance of ten thousand
Why is the nature of the numen unspeakable? Is it something beyond the natural realm? Not necessarily. The numinous, whatever it ultimately consists of, is the manifestation of many dynamic forces. Its manifestation is composed of both conscious and unconscious perceptions. The composition is so complex and various that it cannot be captured by a single thought. The mind cannot intellectually encompass its pervasive presence within a static idea.
You can be taught by the words of a teacher or a book how to bring your mental facilities to the threshold of the numinous workshop. Your conscious intent can bring you to its doorway. But to enter that door and do the unintelligible work beyond it; this will require intuiting the unobservable direction of the numen itself.
What is done in this poorly lighted workshop involves the unification of all levels of awareness; you will recognize what the sense of this experience consists of when you meet it. Trying to describe unification is like trying to use one word to describe a field of ten thousand synchronized dancers, where all but ten of the dancers are invisible ghosts, and all but one of these ten are masquerading. With unification, directed by its unseen choreographer, this vast field of dancers uncannily executes a single integrated pattern.
Unification is both the essence of the numen and the manifestation of the numen's endless activity, a process in which it continually transforms and consummates itself, dancing to the music of an always nascent director.
The following individuals can skip this section, you are folks that don't need to read it: Those who already have a God or gods; and those with or without gods whose psyche is already completely pervaded by the numinous.
This section is relevant for the rest of us, that is to say, those of us who don't have (and probably are not interested in having) a dogmatic belief in a God. And those of us who have as yet not become completely one with the numinous.
When I say "creating a god" I mean the practice of giving the forces of the world around me a persona; and then relating to this persona as if it were consciously responding to my expressed concerns. This "god-creating" practice is not essential to the cultivation of mysticism, but as I have indicated above, it is extraordinarily effective. (See "Wandering II")
Why would I suggest that you imagine something, which you probably doubt exists in the manner that it is to be imagined? Why? Because it works. For whatever reason, imagining that the forces which impinge on my life can be influenced by an agent that I can personally complain to (and ask redress from) is a very effective practice.
If you buy into what I have suggested you can begin your relationship with your new "friend" immediately. The complaints that you once took to your husband, wife, parents, barber, therapist, etc.; can now all be given to this new helper. Ask for whatever you want, and insist on a two part guarantee: "If I don't get exactly what I want, I want something better. If I am not completely satisfied with what you give me, I want you to show me how to be completely satisfied with it."
There is of course a catch in this asking. It's a mutual commitment, give and take. When I vehemently ask to thrive, I will be shown, with all the necessary detail, a way to do so. But the most germane part of this demonstration will usually include the reception of some unpleasant revelations. If my demand is sincere I will begin to clearly see my own self-created obstacles to thriving. Some of my most dear possessions may have to be relinquished. These highly prized assets are not material -- that problem would be relatively easy to dispose of. This property is more valuable; it is those dearly beloved ideas I have about myself, about who I am, about what I need and don't need to do. Also held in this priceless personal treasury, are my misguided beliefs about the way "the world needs to work", and what "it needs to do for me to make me happy."
Some readers will surely conclude that creating a friend like the one I have imagined will bring much more trouble than is worth the effort.
Note: see also "Beyond gods", a god for the atheist, Patanjali's Yoga.
"How would I know that with which it is so?
How would I know that with which it is not so?"
Zhuang Zi (trans. Kuang-Ming Wu)
My neighbor Ted tells me that "God is a frog, he lives in the brook that runs through Dell park, just north of that large elm tree." Ted further tells me that God's name is "Ned". The Ted-Ned rhyme makes me a little suspicious, but I keep my thoughts to myself.
For I realize that Ted's God is simply a private, not a public metaphor. It relates an experience that thus far seems to be limited to one person. An example of a more public metaphor is "Alaska is north of here". A public metaphor has an operational meaning that fits the experience of a larger number of people.
We often make the mistake of calling a private metaphor "false." We talk as if we were capable of defining what is "real." "The world is round," and "it goes around the sun," used to be exclusively private metaphors. One never knows when a metaphor might become accepted "reality."
One of the most famous metaphors is the word "real." And yet one might never come to know what this notorious metaphor "really means." The apophatic looks into the darkness that lies beyond the idea of "really," and finds a dynamic force that is really more practical than the mere idea of a "real."
Telling stories that allow more creatively exquisite outcomes
We all struggle with the instability of reality. In daily life I am a constant story teller, minute by minute my interior ruminations provide a semblance of coherence in my attempt to explain what is happening to me. This largely fictional account of my life gives the chaotic world of circumstance an illusion of predictability, and it allows me to pretend competence. Some illusion of control is vital to my psychological stability; without some basic stories to patch over large "flaws" in the chaos I see all around me, I will suffer madness.
On the other hand, my stories inevitable forecast (cast beforehand) very narrowly conceived outcomes. Such a restricted imagination severely limits my potential. If I can reign in this stubborn habit of prematurely editing of my ongoing story, the world around me will add rich and unthinkable possibilities. If I can allow what I can't yet imagine, the manifestation of it might be quite striking.
How to find your spiritual master
We often talk of finding and choosing spiritual masters as if we were in a theoretical world where it might be quite evident to anyone who such a master is; an idealized world where the typical person would identify one as easily as he could find a dentist who was competent to pull out one of his teeth. We sanguinely advise someone to seek a spiritual master and assume (unconsciously pretend) that there is a reliable way to find one and to easily obtain her services.
The more complex the system we are treating, the more problematic it becomes to determine who an expert is. When I go to the pharmacy in my neighborhood and pick up a prescription for penicillin, I am 99.9% sure it is really penicillin. The pharmaceutical industry in my country is a system that can be, and is, reliably regulated.
When I go to a dentist here to have a cavity filled, I am 95% comfortable that any licensed dentist will know how to do the work competently. When I go for surgery I am 85% sure I will get what I need correctly done. When I go to a lawyer or a licensed psychiatrist I am 65% sure that she will be of great help to me. The systems these latter two professionals treat are more difficult to reliably navigate.
When I look for someone to guide my soul, the challenge becomes exquisitely difficult to accomplish. Problems within the dynamic systems of the soul are resistant to identification and even more so to "fixing." There are very few "official" guidelines (ordination, etc.) to help me make a choice among potential fixers, and trusting these guidelines is very chancy.
Fortunately no one needs a spiritual master, in the sense that that term is often used: someone who might give us comprehensive and exacting direction toward reaching the full potential of our being. But many of us do need a few basic guidelines on how the goal is to be reached. Where can we find these guidelines? I will suggest the answer in the following section.
I will start here by saying that I have an outrageous proposition to make. My proposition, however, is not very original, you can find distinct traces of it throughout the history of spiritual literature. "My" proposition is that attaining spiritual success, although it requires a strenuous effort, does not require detailed esoteric prescriptions. You do not need the exacting guidance of an expert to achieve the goal.
(You will need guidance which is so esoteric that it cannot be formulated, and which can come only from and be understood by those inchoate elements which are present within the deepest recesses of your soul.)
Perhaps we can agree to characterize the spiritual pursuit as follows: the goal is to reach the highest potential of one's human nature. (You are as capable as myself to decide what "highest potential" means.) For this outcome the most important aspect for which a teacher (or a book) might be needed, is to merely* let us know that the capability to locate everything we need to obtain for our task is present within our innate psychic systems. (The psychic realm includes everything in our field of perception, both of our worlds, interior and exterior.)
The tools we need lie dormant until we summon them forth. The nascent ability to self-direct the soul will be found inside my psyche as soon and as adamantly as I stress the intention to find this internal compass. With the internal compass I will find everything I need in the internal and external world, including the further instruction the external world will need to provide. (This outside world has many helpful teachers, some conventional and some not so.) The concept of self-guided spiritual transformation has been called "autopoiesis." It is similar to the "self-transformation" (zi hua") found the in the Lao-Zhuang writings.
I just wrote "articulate the intention." The object of this intentional appeal can be characterized in many ways. Historically this object has been most conventionally referred to as God, sometimes as "spirit guide, etc. The intention can also be expressed to an unknown agency, a "to whom it may concern." Or it can be a simple affirmation directed internally. Some of us have needed a teacher, a book, or even a master, to give us permission to ask the universe for what we need. We had not dared to completely trust in ourselves and personally engage the mysterious power that lies hidden within the vast unexplored expanse of our reality.
To reach spiritual profundity, you don't need anything that you cannot get by intensely employing a few well known principles. If at any point you momentarily need the exacting direction of a master, you will receive that; if not, you will realize that you can dispense with the anxiety of finding one.
*Re "merely": It can justifiably be argued that "merely letting us know" about the extraordinary potential of our innate attributes is a procedure that will not easily be accepted by many people. Many will need to personally "experience" the formidable charismatic presence of that unusual person who confidently tells them, "you can do it yourself." We are children who will allow our parent to finally let go of the seat of our bicycle, only because we have viscerally sensed her surprising ability to know the unknowable. Having such charisma is what I call having a "placebo that is real."
"Inhabit the space between your ears, the marrow
within your bones."
Annie Lee Watson
The rest of the body is continually sending messages to the brain. We usually ignore these signals unless they markedly discomfort us. When we pay more attention we can notice qualitative changes in a message from a foot, elbow, or abdominal cavity.
We can also continuously notice a distinct composite signal coming from the viscera as a whole. This singular visceral signal contains affective as well as physiological feedback. For yet unknown reasons, consciously observing the signal will spontaneously (zi ran) generate the integration and effective deployment of psychic processes. Our thoughts become more cogent and our physical movements more effective. We are able to speak from the heart, sometimes without even using words. With such affective-visceral presence, we have returned to the roots of our being and from there are able to manifest its full potential.
Miracles, delusions, and ineffective beliefs
Some ask, "How can you tell a spiritual experience from a delusion?" This question poses an epistemological problem, Zhuang Zi's would say it is: "bu zhi" ("not knowable"); An answer to such a question can never be authenticated in any fundamental sense. The problem of "what is real knowledge?" is one Zhuang Zi treats in his second chapter.
I have spoken with individuals who believed that their unhappiness was a result of a comprehensive government plot. Each of these fellows had a logical (although, to me, not plausible) answer for anything I proposed that would challenge their theory. There was no way to prove them wrong, because they simply asserted that I did not have all the evidence, there was always "some yet uncovered secret you could not be aware of."
Although such individuals as these are quite miserable, their belief systems are not entirely without self-benefit. They realize they are unhappy, but in their estimation, it is not their fault. And furthermore it gives them satisfaction to think that at least they cannot be viewed as insignificant people. Insignificance and meaninglessness are nearly universal human fears. Although it was unspoken, each of those of this type that I met appeared to assume he had undeniable significance. After all was not a large government force of experts deployed in the effort to oppress him?
These truly were unhappy people, it was only their interpretation of the cause of the unhappiness that most of us would disagree with them about. We might ask them whether their belief system served their happiness or limited it.
It is said that "the proof is in the pudding." The final product can be the only relevant test. And the way one determines the quality of the pudding always depends on the arbitrarily chosen criteria that one uses to define a "good" outcome.
I don't think it is useful to conclude with finality that a particular interpretation of reality is wrong, but I think it is useful to ask if it is effective. Does it enhance my experience of existence? Is their another explanation I can use for a given phenomenon that would be more effective in improving my life?
Thus, the apophatic is not concerned with questions such as "miracle versus the delusion." She only discriminates between "what works" for her, and "what doesn't work."
It would be well for any of us to question the interpretations we use when we reflect upon an incident that "makes" us unhappy. Has the interpretation been a useful one? A reason (or excuse) can be rational and still be insufficient to my deepest need. The problem of "authenticity" is in the end, not a metaphysical question, but a pragmatic one: Am I being true to what I need?
Protective religious strategies, a modern definition for "apophatic," and the manifestation of a god who disappears
Wayne Proudfoot discusses the "protective strategies" that are used by certain dogmatic religious believers. With this kind of strategy these particular believers effectively deny that the non-believer can legitimately question a believer's religious experience. Such protective strategies have been employed by theists, but also by some apophatics in the past. These types of apophatics have claimed that one cannot legitimately describe or interpret the apophatic experience because it comes from something entirely beyond the empirical realm.
I would argue that to be completely apophatic, one cannot not claim that the ineffable apophatic experience comes from one place or another. One cannot empirically establish the fact that it is natural, and also cannot prove that it is not.
To say the experience is apophatic is merely to say that it can't be grasped as single articulated concept by the conscious mind. It is too complex to be consciously articulated and has roots that lie well beyond what can be consciously perceived.
To more specifically dogmatize (either theistically or atheistically) the apophatic is not only logically implausible. More importantly such a limited conception interferes with one's ability to be fully receptive to an unlimited realm of resources. Such conceptualizing distracts and narrowly skews one's attention. It restricts one's ability to respond effectively to the volatile forces that are generated within this realm and which are continually impacting on our immediate moment.
As I have suggested elsewhere, in practice it can be quite useful to envision a personal god who brings one to the threshold of the apophatic realm. Once at the door this god lets go.
We might say that the apophatic realm is a "god" whose disappearance consummates its manifestation.
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