My Joy: Mysticism January 12, 2009

My joy –
My Hunger –
My Shelter –
My Friend –
My Food for the journey –
My journey’s End –
You are my breath,
My hope,
My companion,
My craving,
My abundant wealth.
Without You — my Life, my Love –
I would never have wandered across these endless countries.
You have poured out so much grace for me,
Done me so many favors, given me so many gifts –
I look everywhere for Your love –
Then suddenly I am filled with it.
O Captain of my Heart
Radiant Eye of Yearning in my breast,
I will never be free from You
As long as I live.
Be satisfied with me, Love,
And I am satisfied.

– Rabi’a Al-’Adawiyya (717-801)

I love this poem. It captures so much of what I feel about Loki, and it is true that I have been the recipient of many gifts from His hands — even if some of those did have strings attached. I love other gods very much, but Laufey’s son holds my heart in His hands, no matter what other people may say or how much they disapprove. I am a mystic as well as a priestess and a nun; at times there is no clear boundary between the three roles.

I believe the mystic’s journey is essentially the same no matter what tools one uses along the way or which Beloved waits at the end of the road. I often see familiar things in the love songs and hymns of praise written by other mystics — Christian, Hindu, Muslim or Pagan — to their gods. I’m especially fond of Mirabai, daughter of a high-caste family who ran away to become a wandering holy woman, constantly writing poems in praise of Krishna, who she considered to be her husband. I can relate to her constant and often painfully sweet search for Him. The longing for the divine Beloved is sharper than any earthly hunger, and the joy that comes from nearness with one’s Beloved is more intoxicating than any earthly pleasure.

My understanding is that in other traditions,  the mystic seeks to rise above the physical world, the body and its needs, in order to unite with the Divine, which is seen as transcendent, even if the world is the creation of that same god(s). As a Pagan, however, I believe this faulty, magnificent world is holy in and of itself. I don’t wish to transcend the physical so much as incorporate it into the realm of all that I consider sacred and praiseworthy. And I don’t need to drag the spirits down to my level to be a Pagan mystic. The gods and spirits are already here, present in all that I see, touch, smell, taste and hear. My ancestors live in my flesh and blood and memory. The spirits of the land and sea, of the animals and plants that live in and around and beneath, are everywhere I look. And while one particular Personage is the fire that burns at the center of my heart, all the gods are never far away so long as I remember Them, tend Their harrows and holy places, care for the things They love and allow Them to speak to me when They have something to say. So long as I remember that while They inhabit Their own worlds, those worlds touch mine, and interconnect in ways I might overlook or mistake for something else, if I am careless or hasty to judge.

The trick is in learning how to know all that in a way which cannot be forgotten. Yes, it’s hard, because the world we live in is imperfect, frustrating, often frightening, and there are times (such as recently in my own life) where the gods seem remote, the spirits silent, and the heart beats in what seems an eternity of dreadful silence, and one feels totally disconnected and alone. Every mystic grapples with those feelings, too, though they are written about less often than when we are full of the power and ecstasy of the Holy Ones. It is not an easy path, and it is often a lonely and scary one. But whatever my other religious and spiritual responsibilities might be, I feel that for me at least, learning how to be a Pagan mystic is a worthwhile and rewarding task.