In the midst of my darkness.
I was led to the path of Hindu mystics.
A path I had avoided.
Not even looking at it.
It has too many gods for me.
I did not understand any of it.
But I do understand mysticism.
It is the mysticism that drew me on.
For mystics speak the same language.
Why and how do they speak the same language.
They reach out to the something.
That draws them, that attract them.
That something is in all of us.
It is the divine spark we all have.
All living beings,.
Human and non human.
As they reach out to this divine something.
And experience it.
It is all the same experience.
Derive from experiencing the same being.
The same energy, the same something undefined.
Having experience it, they know what it is
Though they have no words to describe it
If you have words to describe it.
It is not the real thing.
It is ineffable, it is divine, it is beyond words
I come from Catholic background.
I already have set notions of the mystical
From St John of the Cross
If I do not, bypassing all his writings
How do I describe this experience?
It is very simple.
After four days when I felt possessed by God.
I called it possession.
Because it felt that way.
An energy taking me over.
Holding me enthralled.
Those four days. I walked like a pregnant woman.
Holding something invaluable inside.
Something precious.
I knew it was good
I knew I did not want to lose it ever.
And so I walked around gingerly.
Carefully guarding this gem within.
I did not want to come out ever.
From this stupor, this trance state
Alas after four days, I did come out of it.
Once I came out of it.
I knew only that in meditation
When I sit and close my eyes and look inside
I see darkness and in that darkness a presence
I called it the Dark presence.
A dark presence in the apparently empty void.
Apparently empty because it is not empty.
Filled with that Presence.
It is as simple as that.
A darkness seemingly void of everything.
But filled with something there.
I know to be God.
I would sit for hours in that darkness.
Dark and intense.
It held me captive.
It held my attention captive.
I did not, do not see anything.
Yet I did and do see that “Something.”
What I experience.
Is that delicate movement inside
It is as though one is in no man’s man
In that space, in that emptiness
There is something that holds the attention enthralled.
And from one’s depths come a rising.
A delicate rising.
A movement inside.
A movement so delicate and so refine.
That if one is not in deep silence.
One could not perceive it.
Bergson described this movement.
A movement from depths of one’s being.
Moving upwards and upwards.
With each movement the soul.
Feels transported and further transported.
Till it looks on with awe.
Yet see nothing perceptible to human eyes.
It is this movement.
That makes the Transcendent experience.
Of a mystic.
One feels transported to another sphere
To another zone.
Of light, of nothingness .
But oh, so beautiful.
One could stay in it forever.
Accounting for the way.
Buddhist monks could sit..
Hours on end, days on end.
They are no longer in their bodies.
They are in this sublime zone.
Of an alternate reality.
Transcending space and time.
That you are in this other sphere
There is not doubt.
If you doubt it then you have not experience it.
It is sublime, it is beyond experience.
It just is, it just is.
This beautiful boundless stretch of immensity.