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Signs You Might Be a Mystic
You may know one—or even be one yourself.
Ask someone without a theology degree to picture a “mystic,” and they might imagine a yogi meditating on a mountaintop, the whirling dervishes of Turkey, or a nun living a monastic life of fervent prayer. People slightly more familiar with the word may even be able to name a few of the best-known mystics: Rumi, the 13-century poet and Sufi mystic, or Saint Teresa of Avila, the Spanish nun known for writing about her mystical experiences (including levitation). All of these examples have one thing in common: They live, or lived, in a place and/or time far removed from anything we can relate to today. Nobody envisions a mystic plodding outside to grab the mail.
According to scholars—and self-described mystics—that’s not always the case. What’s more, there are, evidently, plenty of self-identified mystics among us today.
So, what exactly is a mystic?
The answer to that question varies according to who’s doing the defining, and which religion or belief system they subscribe to. Truth-seeking, and dedication to making a firsthand connection with a higher power, are the consistent themes.
“A mystic is a person who has a direct experience of the sacred, unmediated by conventional religious rituals or intermediaries,” Mirabai Starr, author of Wild Mercy: Living the Fierce and Tender Wisdom of the Women Mystics, tells OprahMag.com. Starr has both written about and translated original mystical texts.
Achieving that sacred, or divine, experience requires “transcending established belief systems, bypassing the intellect, and dissolving identification with the ‘ego’ self,” Starr says.
“To qualify as a mystic, as one who has had a mystical experience, or a series of mystical experiences, it really means allowing yourself to let go of your identity and just… being.“
“A mystic is someone who has an experience of union with The One—and The One may be God, it may be Mother Earth, it may be the cosmos. That experience is rare, but everyone has them I think, where you momentarily forget that you are a separate ego, personality, self, and you experience your interconnectedness with all that is,” Starr continues.
Since the word “mystical” is somewhat subjective here, we’ll go with the dictionary definition: “involving or having the nature of an individual’s direct subjective communion with God or ultimate reality.”
That moment of union “may be a full-blown mystical experience like the Christian mystics or the Hindu mystics speak about, where you go into almost a trance-like state, but it doesn’t have to be.”
What does a mystic do?
“Anything and everything—that’s the key,” says Starr.
“To qualify as a mystic, as one who has had a mystical experience, or a series of mystical experiences, it really just means allowing yourself to let go of your individuated identity and be,” she continues.
A mystic may cultivate these experiences through meditation, or what Starr calls “a more contemplative variety of prayer. It’s a kind of turning inward and allowing yourself to just abide in a space that makes a welcoming place for the sacred.”
Writing poetry is another way that mystics have traditionally made a “welcoming place for the sacred,” which Rumi, 16th-century Hindu mystic Mirabai (Starr’s namesake), or 14th-century Persian poet Hafiz were famous for.
Those verses often take an almost longing, romantic tone, as in Mirabai’s “I Send Letters,” which begins, “I send letters to my Beloved, The dear Krishna, But He sends no message of reply…”
“Discursive language engages the intellect and the analytical mind in such a way that it kind of precludes that softening, that heart space,” Starr says. “That is where the mystic lives, and where the mystical experience unfolds.”
Even if a mystic isn’t moved to put pen to paper, simply reading others’ poetry can bring them to transcendence.
“Mystical poetry is both an outpouring of the mystic’s own experience, and an invitation for everybody else to enter into that kind of mystical heart space,” Starr continues. “All of the mystics across the traditions claim the same thing, which is, ‘my experience of union with the beloved is absolutely ineffable.’ It cannot be described in words or concepts. And yet, they can’t help but write about it or sing about it, or paint about it!”
Are there Catholic mystics?
Yes. There are academics, members of the clergy, and Catholic church members who believe in the mystics of the past—or even identify as one, themselves.
In a 2013 interview about Christian mysticism, professor and Roman Catholic theologian Bernard McGinn said that “a mystical person would be someone who’s committed to the search for a deeper contact with God.” A mystic, by his definition, who has “achieved that in a very supreme way.”
Perhaps the most famous example of a highly-regarded Catholic mystic who achieved it in a very supreme way was St. Teresa of Avila, a Spanish Carmelite nun and author. A polarizing figure during her time as a Carmelite reformer, her own ecstatic religious experiences included accounts of levitation (though modern historians have speculated that she actually suffered from epilepsy). The nun’s writings on prayer, particularly The Way of Perfection, are still considered theology classics today.
Modern mystics live among us today, though they don’t all write poetry in isolated obscurity—in fact, you can find some of them on YouTube.
Father Richard Rohr, an author and Franciscan friar, writes about mysticism and developing a close relationship to God through prayer. In a June 2019 visit to Oprah’s SuperSoul Sunday, Rohr shared his thoughts on how names for a higher power, such as “God” or “Jesus,” are “historically limited. The Universal Christ author posits that setting those names aside may open up one’s relationship with a higher power.
In an adapted excerpt from Rohr’s A Spring Within Us, he says that mystic “simply means one who has moved from mere belief systems or belonging systems to actual inner experience. All spiritual traditions at their mature levels agree that such a movement is possible, desirable, and even available to everyone.”
Who can be a mystic?
According to Starr, a mystic can be a bartender or a bus driver, or a schoolteacher, or a journalist—it’s got nothing to do with your external life and everything to do with internal experience.
“A mystic is an ordinary person who does ordinary things and experiences these moments of profound union with The Source, Starr says.
Another sign you may be a natural mystic? An extreme affinity for nature.
“That’s why there’s the term “Mother Earth.” For a lot of people with mystical inclinations, it’s a felt relationship with the earth, like a cherished loved one, as a relative. It’s about fully embodying our humanity and our relationship with the natural world, but that’s still a mystical experience, because we, our separate ego-self dissolves into that vast mystery of The One.”
The Subtle Ageism We Commit Against Ourselves(and How to Shift Our Attitudes)
It’s no surprise that we’re steeped in a culture that values youth over maturity. Negative stereotypes about aging are everywhere. We’re taught from birth to be anti-aging.
Even when you know ageist attitudes are ridiculous, the constant bombardment of negative messaging can allow subtle forms of ageism to seep in and affect us.
When that happens, we can even become subconsciously ageist towards ourselves. And while ageist attitudes from outside may be easier to spot, the ageist messages that spring from inside us can be harder to recognize.
Examining and confronting these under-the-radar forms of ageism can have amazing benefits for your health and well-being.
Studies show that those with positive attitudes about aging live over seven years longer than those with negative attitudes. But more than that, having a pro-age attitude can fill every year of your life with new opportunities, amazing adventures, loving friends and family and a new desire to embrace everything this life has to offer.
How do you know if these subtle forms of ageism are impacting you? Below are five ways ageism can affect you or women you know—and how to shift to a pro-age mindset.
1. Letting your age dictate your lifestyle
Some people take it easy later in life. Others get busier.
No longer occupied with making a living or raising children, many find this is a great time to spend quality time with family and friends, take on new or forgotten hobbies or even start a new business or venture.
But some women find it harder to navigate this time of life. After a lifetime of negative messages about aging, they believe they’re “supposed” to do certain things at certain ages. This belief can get in the way of going for what would actually be gratifying out of fear it’s inappropriate.
There’s nothing wrong with taking it easy or starting new endeavors as we age.
Whatever you choose to do, do it because you want to, not because someone told you that’s how people your age are supposed to behave.
What’s possible for you depends on your attitude, not your age.
2. Dressing “your age”
There are a lot of messages out there about how women should “dress their age”—and specifically what women should look like and wear.
Our suggestion? Go for fun!
Choose clothes that make you feel comfortable and confident, regardless of what the style mavens say about it.
Colors, cuts and styles don’t mean nearly as much as how you feel in your clothes. When you feel good, you look good. You radiate confidence and confidence is beautiful.
3. Fear of looking your age
The beauty industry tells us that the worst possible thing we can do is allow ourselves to look our age—and then markets a multitude of products and services designed to disguise every sign of aging.
All that messaging can weigh on us.
Our founder Cindy Joseph taught us this: If you catch yourself considering a new beauty routine—like dyeing your hair or using anti-aging products— Are you motivated by fun? Or fear?
The personal choices you make regarding makeup, hair dye and other beauty treatments are yours and yours alone. But making those decisions from a place of fun, excitement and celebration will make the results much more enjoyable for you.
If you find you’re motivated by fear, you may want to rethink that particular choice. Instead, find ways to love yourself as you are. Find inspiration in pro-age women you admire and then do what pleases you.
4. Forgetting to dream
No matter your age, there’s time to dream and go for what you want.
Many Boom women have begun new endeavors or careers later in life. Boom Ambassador Kim Bomberger began a new career in communications at 50. Then, at 60, she started her own portrait company.
Our own Cindy Joseph embarked on a new career as a silver-haired model at 49 and co-founded BOOM! at 61.
It’s never too late to follow your dreams. Nor are you ever too old to start dreaming.
If you find yourself rejecting your desires because you think it’s inappropriate to want those things at your age, consider looking with fresh eyes. You’re never too old to go after what you want—unless you think you are.
5. Neglecting your health
Part of rejecting ageism is taking time for self-care—and addressing your own health needs at every age. That means taking time to exercise, meditate, eat well and engage in activities that give you pleasure and benefit your health.
Shifting away from ageist attitudes and toward a more pro-age lens is so beneficial for your long-term health and well-being. Loving yourself has benefits at every age. Thank you for being a pro-age inspiration!
Do you recognize unconscious ageism in yourself? What do you do to combat it?
BOOKS OF INTEREST
NEW DIMENSIONS IN SPIRITUALITY, RELIGION AND AGING, By Vern Bengtson and Merril Silverstein (Routledge, 2018). AGING: An Apprenticeship, edited by Nan Narboe (Red Notebook, 2017). MY LIFE AFTER WORK: Retiring from Work, Not Life, by Leona Bergstrom et al (ChurchHealth, 2019). |
Facing 70 – Ageing Consciously
Sixty-nine hit me like a tornado, fast-moving and whipping up emotional debris.
Small things. Cataracts and recommended surgery. “What if I can’t read, can’t drive and can’t work?” I catastrophized the possibilities in my mind as I reflected on my four decades as a public radio and print journalist. No Pulitzer or New York Times bestseller list, just small stories about people whose voices are not often heard, poor people, old people, refugees, hungry children. Enough to keep me thinking I might bring a bit of comfort, in my small way, to at least a few deserving people.
“One adage about growing older is that you care less about what people think,” says Corley.
Another small medical issue arose. A crown needs to replaced at the edge of bone loss in my jaw.
Then a fever and a short, rare spell of not feeling well. Suddenly, I began to feel fragile, vulnerable to the ravages of age.
“It’s the beginning of falling apart,” I said fearfully to myself.
A Desire to Rise Above My Age
Thankfully, these are small issues easily managed. But they forced me to admit I’m heading decisively into my “later years” and at some point, I will simply no longer exist. I had avoided thinking about that reality for a long time.
Even with all my best intentions and routines of healthy food, walking, tai chi and swimming, the body eventually wears down.
Before 69 and the looming wall that was 70, I could make believe I was always going to be able to rise above my age, keep working as a journalist, travel to see my three grown daughters across the U.S., have mobility and enjoy the simple pleasures of life, like kayaking on a quiet lake, walking in the park and taking guitar lessons.
The Wisdom of The Velveteen Rabbit
One of my strategies for keeping my mind and body alert has been a determination to keep learning new things, especially technology. I started my second master’s degree program, this one called Library Informatics and Technology, an attempt to connect my lifelong love of libraries with embracing a few new bits of technology.
In the course on children’s literature, a favorite book surfaced to help my peace of mind. It’s one of my beloved books of wisdom, a classic, The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams.
Reading this book as an older adult, I found hope from the Skin Horse, the wise toy that had outlasted the boy’s mechanical gadgets. The Skin Horse comforted the Velveteen Rabbit with the wisdom about becoming “Real” when a child loves you.
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
Connect With People Who Understand ‘Being Real’
Another healing coincidence arrived during a recent conference of the Gerontological Society of America in Austin, Texas. As a journalism fellow, I had access to wise mental health professionals of my generation who are personally embracing ‘the age of being Real.’
One of those is Connie Corley, a 65-year-old professor at Fielding Graduate University in Santa Barbara, Calif., who has worked in the field of gerontology since the 1970s.
One of her guiding pieces of wisdom is from the late inspirational speaker and writer Wayne Dyer who said, “Don’t die with your music still in you.”
“One adage about growing older is that you care less about what other people think,” says Corley. “I don’t know if that’s been proven, but I can say from my own personal experience and observation that people become less inhibited in the sense of following their interests. If they have never done painting, they might decide to paint. People love taking writing classes as they get older. Many people are joining choirs. There’s so much interesting research now about music and the value of stimulating the brain and making social connections.”
She is taking part in a brain health study, learning more about the complexity of the brain and cognitive activity, especially because her mother had Alzheimer’s, which was confirmed by an autopsy.
Corley is participating in a project researching how music, movement and meditation can encourage residents in nursing homes to be actively engaged in group activity with the goal of becoming more “enlivened.”
As a person who has long included creativity as essential in her research and personal life, Corley looks at herself and colleagues who are making lifestyle choices as they leave their professional lives.
“Part of my yearning is I want to spend more time outside,” says Corley. “I live in California. My daughters live far away. I have to kind of reinvent myself. Instead of dreading worrying about money if I leave my job, what it would be like if I simplified my life, maybe downsizing, renting a camper and staying at the beach?”
What ‘Being Real’ Means
I remind myself that it will be comforting if I approach 70 as the age when I have to find peace in “being Real.” That means being thankful my sharp edges have been worn down by life. It means being grateful that even though my heart has been broken by the loss of important relationships and the death of loved ones, it still pumps strongly, fueled by compassion.
I’m bending and stretching to loosen up those stiffer joints. I greet my honestly earned wrinkles with a sense of gentleness about my overall “shabbiness” brought on by the winds and rains of life.
I remind myself that I, and the millions of others who have reached our years as “older adults” cannot be ugly, except to those who don’t understand what it means to be “Real.”
Rhonda J. Miller is a reporter and audio producer for WKU Public Radio in Bowling Green, Kentucky. She was awarded a 2018 journalism fellowship from the Gerontological Society of America to produce a series of public radio stories on elder refugees in Kentucky. She was GSA Continuing Fellow in 2019 and produced stories on the difficulty of finding Kentucky businesses to hire older workers retrained through a federal program. Rhonda was Gulf Coast reporter for Mississippi Public Broadcasting, where she won Edward R. Murrow and Associated Press awards for stories about dying sea turtles, illnesses of cleanup workers in the BP oil spill and homeless veterans. She has been an education reporter for Rhode Island Public Radio, South Florida Sun-Sentinel and Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.