This is an offshoot of a discussion that arose on another thread (https://www.askmehelpdesk.com/christianity/she-ever-christian-326945.html).

This is a pretty fundamental difference between us. I don't think the real truth of God is "out there", I think it's "in here", and that's where I've been able to find what I know of it.

With this you appear to be touching on something with which I have a long-standing interest (in a non-pejorative sense of "interest"), and I wonder if you'd be willing to say more about what you have in mind with the contrast between "out there" and "in here". Given the reception you seem to be getting I will, of course, quite understand it you'd rather not expand on what you've said. But if you are willing, I'd like very much to hear more about how you think about this: what "in here" refers to and what is to be found there; whether there are things to be found "in here" that aren't available "out there".

This isn't intended as a challenge, nor to set-up a challenge. I don't see that you've said anything hostile to Christianity. In fact, it looks like you may be giving voice to something that a good many Christians feel (or, at least, something I've often heard said). I'd be grateful if you would be willing to say more about how you think about these matters.

Where to start? I guess since you seem to be conversant with some fairly obscure sources, I can tell you some of the authors who have inspired me and planted seeds in my heart and mind. They're mostly in one or another strand of the mystical tradition that seems to form as a minority alongside the more mainstream versions of all the major religions.

Within the Christian tradition, the anonymous author of "The Cloud of Unknowing" is probably my favorite, but I'm also indebted to Jacob Boehme, William Blake, and many others of their ilk. I've also read several Kabalistic sources, though I've never been instructed in the oral tradition.

Among the oriental traditions, I'm most attracted to Lao Tzu (The Tao Teh King), but I also find much to respond to in The I Ching, The Upanishads, The Bhagavad Gita, and The Tibetan Book of the Dead. I haven't read much Sufi literature, but from what little I know of their tradition, they seem to be of one mind with the other mystics of the world.

I have also studied Astrology, Alchemy, Tarot, and some of the other occult traditions. I use astrology on an ongoing basis in my personal life and relationships.

As best I understand at this time, a central tenet of the mystical approach is what I would describe as intellectual humility, which is simply to bear in mind always that every attempt to define and constrain the Spirit in order to tame it and make it suitable for domestic service in the house of the rational intellect is bound to fail. In other words, Spirit is primary, Mind is secondary. As Jesus put it to Nicodemus, "The wind blows where it will and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from or where it goes. So also is every one who is born of the Spirit"

In terms of the within/without distinction, Spirit is within, thought and sensation is without. It's the same distinction that the sages of the occult tradition draw between "above" and "below", as in the ancient dictum, "As above, so below", meaning that the inner spiritual world is "above", i.e., superior to and causative of the outer mental and material world "below".

That should do as an intro. I'm most interested to know your response and further thoughts.

Thanks so much for being willing to talk about this further. I was delighted to find that you'd opened this thread.

I share several of the interests that you've mentioned above. Mysticism and the various mystical traditions have been an abiding interest of mine for many years and substantially motivated my interest in Christianity. That said, I have only a passing familiarity with a number of the things you mention, in particular, the occult, Tarot, and eastern mysticism. My exposure to astrology and alchemy is limited to what I've read in the course of studying the history of science; I've never pursued these as spiritual regimes in their own right. My knowledge of eastern mysticism is quite limited. I've read the texts you mention but cannot claim to have studied them in any real depth.

I am more familiar with Christian and Islamic mystical traditions and have devoted considerable effort to their study. And while not myself a Muslim, Ibn Arabi remains one of my favorite spiritual writers of any tradition.

This, hopefully, will give you at least some sense where I am coming from with what follows. Not only do I harbor no hostility toward, or suspicion of, mysticism, I hold it in high esteem (for the most part--the New Age stuff tends to get under my skin).

As you know, what first led me to ask you to say more about your views was your mention of "in here" vs. "out there". I greatly appreciate your sharing with me where you are coming from since this helps me to have a better idea what this distinction means for you. That said, I hope it's okay if I ask some further questions. Here goes...

One of the things that intrigues me about many mystics is the way in which they problematize (sorry, I can't think of a better word for it) the distinction between inner and outer. Many mystics regard the goal of their spiritual praxis to be the annihilation of the self in the divine--in something radically transcendent. The mystic undertakes years and years of study, performs and seeks to perfect himself in the practice of rituals (including prayer, meditation, worship) in order ultimately to experience union with the divine. In much of Christian and Islamic mysticism, there is a progression from purification to illumination to, finally, union.

You mention humility and this is a hugely important point which I am delighted to see brought up. In the absence of humility, purification, illumination, and union aren't possible. But there are different kinds of humility, different respects in which one must seek to master the practice of humility. One is the awareness of one's own sinfulness or fallenness. Another is the awareness that what is most radically outer is at the same time radically inner, namely the Divine, coupled with the awareness of radical dependence upon the Divine. (I keep using the word "radical" in an attempt to honor the great emphasis that is placed on these and the fact that they are understood rather differently by mystics than might otherwise be imagined.) God is not out there; but neither is God in here: The distinction between inner and outer, between oneself and the Other is itself something to be overcome, or seen through.

This brings me back to something you say, namely the inability to get our minds around fundamental spiritual realities. The mystics themselves enact this through their use of language in order to demonstrate the inability for language to comprehend, say, God's essence or the intimate relation of the soul to God in the experience of ecstatic union. Language itself breaks down in the face of these realities, these truths, and we have no concepts with which to bring them within the grip of our cognitive faculties. These things are through-and-through experiential: One must experience them, one cannot understand them by rational means--at least, not without distortion.

So, as I understand it, mysticism isn't a retreat into the realm of the purely subjective or individualistic. It is, rather, the transformation of the individual and the transcending of the purely subjective through the striving for the Divine. This, of course, requires that the individual undertake lots and lots of hard work, but always with the aim of overcoming or transcending one's individuality and particularity. This is certainly what one finds in The Cloud of Unknowing and in Boehme, to say nothing of the tradition from which they spring. But you are absolutely right, that there is an emphasis on the need to go beyond the senses, beyond senuous (not to mention sensual) experience. Augustine illustrates this beautifully with his description of the Vision at Ostia in the ninth book of his Confessions, where he displays for the reader not only the break-down of language and discursive thought but of the senses and sensory experience as well.

It appears I don't have a well-articulated question for you (although I honestly thought I had when I began writing this post). Perhaps what I am asking you for is just your thoughts about what I have said so far. I realize that you are drawing on mystical traditions with which I am not as familiar as I would like to be, and that my account of mysticism speaks only to those traditions with which I am familiar. So you may be thinking about things rather differently. I would be most interested to hear more of your thoughts about any or all of this.

And thank you again for opening this thread and discussing this with me. I look forward to your next post.

for the most part--the New Age stuff tends to get under my skin.
Yes, most of it is pretty thin gruel, I'm afraid.

One of the things that intrigues me about many mystics is the way in which they problematize (sorry, I can't think of a better word for it) the distinction between inner and outer. Many mystics regard the goal of their spiritual praxis to be the annihilation of the self in the divine--in something radically transcendent. The mystic undertakes years and years of study, performs and seeks to perfect himself in the practice of rituals (including prayer, meditation, worship) in order ultimately to experience union with the divine. In much of Christian and Islamic mysticism, there is a progression from purification to illumination to, finally, union.
Something that rings especially true to me in The Cloud of Unknowing is the notion of "naked intent". The idea is that the impulse toward the Spirit is not "for" anything, and the spiritual quest should not be motivated by a desire to experience or achieve any particular state, however ecstatic or exalted. Such states may occur from time to time, for some people, but they are not the goal or purpose of spiritual practice. The only goal is to be completely open, responsive, and available to the Spirit at every moment of every day in every situation, whether that brings agony or ecstasy, tedium or delight, union or solitude.


God is not out there; but neither is God in here: The distinction between inner and outer, between oneself and the Other is itself something to be overcome, or seen through.
Yes, I would say seen through, rather than overcome. The experience of being separate is an illusion, a useful and necessary one for certain times and purposes, but not fundamentally real.

This brings me back to something you say, namely the inability to get our minds around fundamental spiritual realities. The mystics themselves enact this through their use of language in order to demonstrate the inability for language to comprehend, say, God's essence or the intimate relation of the soul to God in the experience of ecstatic union. Language itself breaks down in the face of these realities, these truths, and we have no concepts with which to bring them within the grip of our cognitive faculties. These things are through-and-through experiential: One must experience them, one cannot understand them by rational means--at least, not without distortion.
Yes, the beginning of wisdom is to acknowledge the limits of the rational mind. However sharp and fit an instrument it may be for understanding the outer world, there are realms of being and consciousness where it is inoperative, and trying to use it inappropriately in those realms is not only futile, it can actually do damage.


So, as I understand it, mysticism isn't a retreat into the realm of the purely subjective or individualistic. It is, rather, the transformation of the individual and the transcending of the purely subjective through the striving for the Divine.
Yes, that's pretty much how I understand it as well.

This, of course, requires that the individual undertake lots and lots of hard work, but always with the aim of overcoming or transcending one's individuality and particularity. Well, I wouldn't necessarily call it "hard work" with an "aim of overcoming" something, be it individuality or separation. I see it more as cultivating an attentive willingness to serve the needs of the Spirit in whatever way we are able in whatever situation we find ourselves in. Life lived this way will probably produce moments of heightened awareness of the unity of all things, including ourselves, but those moments are the icing, not the cake.


It appears I don't have a well-articulated question for you (although I honestly thought I had when I began writing this post). Perhaps what I am asking you for is just your thoughts about what I have said so far. I realize that you are drawing on mystical traditions with which I am not as familiar as I would like to be, and that my account of mysticism speaks only to those traditions with which I am familiar. So you may be thinking about things rather differently. I would be most interested to hear more of your thoughts about any or all of this.
Not so very differently, it seems, except maybe the traditions you mention are a bit more focused on striving and struggle and effort.

Many mystics regard the goal of their spiritual praxis to be the annihilation of the self in the divine--


I think this is more true of the Eastern tradition, not the Western tradition. Christian mystics seek union with the divine but not at the price of self. The self is always distinct from the Creator/divine. I don't know if this is true in every case - it's been a long time since I've read Eckhart - but Merton clearly made this distinction.

I think this is more true of the Eastern tradition, not the Western tradition. Christian mystics seek union with the divine but not at the price of self. The self is always distinct from the Creator/divine. I don't know if this is true in every case - it's been a long time since I've read Eckhart - but Merton clearly made this distinction.

Yes, Athos, you are right, and thank you for correcting me. It was terribly sloppy of me to write that. In fact, even though Eckhart is often said to have spoken about the annihilation of the self, it's really pretty clear that that's not what he was saying (although his playful use of language can easily mislead). While there are writers in various mystical traditions who have flirted with the annihilation of the self, this is not representative of the mainstream of Western mystical thinking. I'll be more careful in future.

Something that rings especially true to me in The Cloud of Unknowing is the notion of "naked intent". The idea is that the impulse toward the Spirit is not "for" anything, and the spiritual quest should not be motivated by a desire to experience or achieve any particular state, however ecstatic or exalted. Such states may occur from time to time, for some people, but they are not the goal or purpose of spiritual practice. The only goal is to be completely open, responsive, and available to the Spirit at every moment of every day in every situation, whether that brings agony or ecstasy, tedium or delight, union or solitude.

I want to avoid the passive voice here... I too have a great fondness for the notion of stillness or quietude and the centrality of this in mystical writing. There is a useful and pregnant tension between the purposive and the non-purposive: Mystical praxis isn't mere play, it is purposive, and yet at the same time it isn't overtly goal-directed in the way in which many other sorts of spiritual praxis are. This, I think, provides an important counterbalance.


Yes, I would say seen through, rather than overcome. The experience of being separate is an illusion, a useful and necessary one for certain times and purposes, but not fundamentally real.

This is something I wonder about from time to time: How illusory is difference or separation really? It seems to me that these are scalar, that there are non-trivial ways in which there is no separation as well as non-trivial ways in which there really is deep separation. Very often one finds lots of metaphor swirling around in order to capture that absence of separation, and it isn't always clear to me what to make of the metaphors--whether they bottom-out in something non-metaphorical. I'm thinking here especially of the one author in the alchemical tradition with whom I have any real familiarity, Paracelsus. There is this sort of elaborate organicism at work, but it's all couched in metaphor. I have often wondered whether there is really anything at work here beyond the play of metaphor (i.e. language). I would be interested to know your thoughts about this (not Paracelsus in particular, but the broader issue).


Yes, the beginning of wisdom is to acknowledge the limits of the rational mind. However sharp and fit an instrument it may be for understanding the outer world, there are realms of being and consciousness where it is inoperative, and trying to use it inappropriately in those realms is not only futile, it can actually do damage.

I agree with you, that it can in fact do damage. At the same time, I feel called to be very cautious whenever one calls for suspending rational thought. Irrationalism can do profound damage, as well, of course. I seem to be most attracted to those mystics who call upon the individual to exercise all of one's faculties--even if this involves cultivating the ability to quiet those faculties when appropriate. And discernment, knowing when it is appropriate, is something that I believe comes only after one has acquired a good del of experience and wisdom. I find hesychasm to be a remarkably deep tradition, and it speaks to me, especially with regard to these matters.


Well, I wouldn't necessarily call it "hard work" with an "aim of overcoming" something, be it individuality or separation. I see it more as cultivating an attentive willingness to serve the needs of the Spirit in whatever way we are able in whatever situation we find ourselves in. Life lived this way will probably produce moments of heightened awareness of the unity of all things, including ourselves, but those moments are the icing, not the cake.

I like the way you put this. As I understand it, the hard work that one undertakes is by way of preparation: No one can, by virtue of his own efforts, achieve union. This is the sense in which mystical praxis isn't purposive or goal-directed: I cannot force the divine to be one with me. What I can, and must, do is to remove in myself those obstacles which I have put into place and which cause me to be unreceptive. This, as I understand it, is the place for striving and struggle. I struggle with myself, to overcome my own vices and passions and preconceptions--all those things about me which keep me rooted in my own particularity and close me off to the transcendent Other. This is, of course, the Christian tradition of spiritual combat. But this goal is for this to give way to utter stillness, so that I can be maximally receptive of the Other, the Divine. And this is precisely why so many mystics include in their work a program of spiritual ascesis, since an important part of growing in the Spirit (to appropriate the way you put it) is the removing of obstacles in myself.


Not so very differently, it seems, except maybe the traditions you mention are a bit more focused on striving and struggle and effort.

That may well be. As I say, I don't have a deep knowledge or understanding of, in particular, many eastern traditions. In part this is because the bits that I have read emphasized a kind of quietism that I feel often (and I could easily be mistaken here) fails adequately to take into account the ways in which we have already established within ourselves manifold obstacles. There is a similar quietism in Boehme, and it tends to irk me a bit there as well. But my feeling a bit irked is certainly far from a reasoned objection.

I wonder if you would be willing to expand on the way you think about God's being "in here" as opposed to "out there". You have touched on this in several ways, of course, but I would like very much to hear more about how you think about this given the traditions upon which you have drawn. Part of what intrigues me about this is whether you take there to be a very deep distinction between the two, "in here" and "out there", and whether you think that the two are complementary or whether you think that we should, as it were, turn insofar as we are able from what is "out there" and seek our spirituality entirely within.

Man, you MUST to be a teacher of some sort. You've sent me off on several different reading tangents, which I now have to mull over, reread in some cases, and then think about some more, before I can fashion a response. I'm just going to do it in bits and pieces as I am able to formulate a coherent thought or two, and find the time to write them down.


This is something I wonder about from time to time: How illusory is difference or separation really? It seems to me that these are scalar, that there are non-trivial ways in which there is no separation as well as non-trivial ways in which there really is deep separation.
Paradox, contradiction, conundrum, simultaneous affirmation of opposites, these are all the mystic's stock in trade. It causes the rationalist/logicians no end of heartburn. I understand the Sufis are especially adept at inventing games and riddles of this sort.


Very often one finds lots of metaphor swirling around in order to capture that absence of separation, and it isn't always clear to me what to make of the metaphors--whether they bottom-out in something non-metaphorical. I'm thinking here especially of the one author in the alchemical tradition with whom I have any real familiarity, Paracelsus. There is this sort of elaborate organicism at work, but it's all couched in metaphor. I have often wondered whether there is really anything at work here beyond the play of metaphor (i.e. language). I would be interested to know your thoughts about this (not Paracelsus in particular, but the broader issue).
Yes, the mystics hardly ever come at things directly, and I think the reason is that they are acutely aware of the human tendency to confuse a symbol with the thing itself, as well as the spiritual danger of doing so. All this metaphorical, allegorical, and analogical language just makes it a little bit harder to make that mistake. My guess is that this is why Jesus taught so predominately through parables, and also why he wrote no books. I'm sure he knew full well that the books, and the arguments they engendered, would come soon enough, and as we see everyday on these boards, he was right.


I agree with you, that it can in fact do damage. At the same time, I feel called to be very cautious whenever one calls for suspending rational thought. Irrationalism can do profound damage, as well, of course.
Well, yes, but suspending rational thought doesn't cause irrational thought. The quiet mind is not irrational, it is trans-rational.

I seem to be most attracted to those mystics who call upon the individual to exercise all of one's faculties--even if this involves cultivating the ability to quiet those faculties when appropriate. And discernment, knowing when it is appropriate, is something that I believe comes only after one has acquired a good del of experience and wisdom.
Yes, there is a tendency to think that spiritual progress is dependent on, and necessarily follows the mastery of technique, but really, the limiting factor is more often discernment than technical expertise.

I find hesychasm to be a remarkably deep tradition, and it speaks to me, especially with regard to these matters.
This is what sent me Googling and Wikipedaling. I had never even encountered the word before, so I have a lot of catching up to do. I have known that the Orthodox branch of Christianity carried within it a much stronger mystical thread than the Latin Church, but I have almost no exposure to it, so this is like stumbling into a gold mine. What I've read so far makes me feel right at home.

I have to go to bed, and I'll be gone for the weekend, so it will be a few days before I get back to this. That's OK though, I need the processing time. Thanks for the stimulating exchange. I'm enjoying it immensely.

Man, you MUST to be a teacher of some sort. You've sent me off on several different reading tangents, which I now have to mull over, reread in some cases, and then think about some more, before I can fashion a response. I'm just going to do it in bits and pieces as I am able to formulate a coherent thought or two, and find the time to write them down.

Uh-oh. If I've been teacherly I promise it was unintentional (yes, I've been teaching for many years, and I suppose I don't always realize the degree to which that shows). It's a little discouraging to see what many years in lecture halls and seminar rooms has done to me, but I hope at least that I haven't been teacherly in a bad way. If I have, or am in future, please don't hesitate to tell me so. I'll do my best to tone it down where I can (though, honestly, I don't trust myself to notice when I'm doing it--I'm afraid it's probably become second-nature by now).


Paradox, contradiction, conundrum, simultaneous affirmation of opposites, these are all the mystic's stock in trade. It causes the rationalist/logicians no end of heartburn. I understand the Sufis are especially adept at inventing games and riddles of this sort.


Perhaps my favorite here is St.John of the Cross, especially his poetry. He does something that is, to my mind, quite remarkable: He enacts the disintegration of language, displaying the struggles of language to get around what cannot be said, the ineffable, giving way to wild juxtapositions of light and dark imagery, until finally it is reduced to a single vowel: O! He was the master of this sort of thing--though by no means the only adept practitioner of it. In fact, Melville does something quite similar in some of his poetry. And Melville was no mystic.


Yes, the mystics hardly ever come at things directly, and I think the reason is that they are acutely aware of the human tendency to confuse a symbol with the thing itself, as well as the spiritual danger of doing so. All this metaphorical, allegorical, and analogical language just makes it a little bit harder to make that mistake. My guess is that this is why Jesus taught so predominately through parables, and also why he wrote no books. I'm sure he knew full well that the books, and the arguments they engendered, would come soon enough, and as we see everyday on these boards, he was right.

That's an interesting point, about the tendency to confuse signifier and signified. There is also the fact that they are trying to get language around something that lies outside the bounds of thought and langauge, enacting in the process the disintegration of language and meaning.

In addition to these, there is another important aspect of an awful lot of mysticism: esotericism. I keep hoping that one day I'll stumble upon a really good study of esotericism in the mystical tradition(s), but I have as yet been unable to find anything good. And I'm for sure not going to try to write the sucker!


Well, yes, but suspending rational thought doesn't cause irrational thought. The quiet mind is not irrational, it is trans-rational.

A good point. You are absolutely right. For me--and I am speaking only to my own quirks and foibles--the threat of irrationalism is a great concern. While you are right that the mystics' call for the superation of rational thought is not itself an endorsement, let alone an embracing, of irrationalism, we have seen in the modern era the emergence of conservative political ideologies that undertake to merge a certain kind of mysticism with a certain kind of political theory (usually of the state) which are pretty overtly irrationalist. Carl Schmitt is a great example; so too, some of the Romantics (who became arch-conservatives after they grew disillusioned with the French Revolution). I recognize that this is not at all what you are talking about; and I also recognize that the mystics' talk of suspending rational thought was not at all in the service of a proto-National Socialist political ideology. I bring this up only in order to explain the source of my own reservations about the threat of irrationalism. Also, I've encountered a surprising number of people over the years (when I stop and think about it) who, in the name of mysticism, did in fact embrace a kind of irrationalism. And while I further recognize that this was, on their part, a distortion of mysticism, I also don't want to lose sight of the ease with which the one can give way to the other.

Having said all that, I agree with you, as with the mystics to whom we are alluding, that in matters spiritual, the rational must at some point yield to something, as you say, trans-rational.


Yes, there is a tendency to think that spiritual progress is dependent on, and necessarily follows the mastery of technique, but really, the limiting factor is more often discernment than technical expertise.

It would be a mistake to reduce the spiritual to a matter of technique. Technique is a means, not an end. In fact, I prefer to think of it as discipline rather than as technique. And discipline, the spiritual discipline articulated by the mystics, is not disposable, nor is it to be dispensed with. It is itself part of the fabric of the spiritual life. (I'm not sure you'll agree with that.)



This is what sent me Googling and Wikipedaling. I had never even encountered the word before, so I have a lot of catching up to do. I have known that the Orthodox branch of Christianity carried within it a much stronger mystical thread than the Latin Church, but I have almost no exposure to it, so this is like stumbling into a gold mine. What I've read so far makes me feel right at home.

Well, I hope my inadvertent teacherliness has at least paid some dividends. That would make me feel a lot better about it. If you haven't already come across it, I will bet dollars to doughnuts that you would thoroughly enjoy reading the Philokalia. I won't try to describe it here and run the risk of descending from teacherliness to pedantry, but you can look it up and get a sense for its contents. I mention it because I really am confident, on the strength of things you have already said, that you would find it enriching and nourishing. Also, it's the best one-stop shopping for hesychasm.

I have often heard it said that Orthodox Christianity is more mystical that Catholic Christianity. This, I think, is a misconception. It is rather the case, I believe, that they are equally mystical but that they sometimes give expression to their espective mysticisms in different ways. Orthodoxy is sometimes more overtly mystical; it more frequently wears its mysticism on its sleeve (I don't mean that to be a pejorative, though I realize that's how it sounds). There are, I think, respects in which Orthodoxy is more at peace with its mysticism than is Catholicism where one sometimes finds a scholastic spirit that is a bit suspicious of the mystical. Of course, one finds this principally among those who have failed to appreciate how thoroughgoingly mystical scholasticism itself can be. Just the same, though, the mysticism of the Eastern and Western Churches is remarkably similar. As I say, I think the real difference tends to be one of tone (and in this regard, I think the West has something to learn from the East).

Both Orthodoxy and Catholicism are far more mystical than Protestantism. This has actually been a bone of contention, especially between the Orthodox and Protestants. Protestantism tends to be far more rationalistic and suspicous of the mystical and of the impulse from which it arises. Boehme tends not to be held in especially high regard among mainline Protestants, whereas Gregory Palamas is revered by the Orthodox and John of the Cross is a Doctor of the Catholic Church.

But that's enough on the sectarian the front. I don't think that either of us is terribly interested in that stuff. (Though, if I am mistaken, and you'd enjoy discussing some of the different traditions among these, there may be things to be gained from that.) Personally, I'm interested to hear more of your own thoughts and views about the things we're discussing. It is in their mystical traditions that the various religions and religious traditions are most similar. I suspect that if one were unaware of reading al-Jilani or Ibn Arabi, but had only the text itself, one might never know that she was reading a Muslim as opposed to a Christian or Jewish mystic. That's food for thought in its own right (though I wouldn't want to be overhasty in drawing any conclusions from it).


I have to go to bed, and I'll be gone for the weekend, so it will be a few days before I get back to this. That's OK though, I need the processing time. Thanks for the stimulating exchange. I'm enjoying it immensely.

Thanks! I'm enjoying it as well. I look forward to your return.

You guys are way over my head, but I enjoy reading your posts in hopes that I can get something out of them.
Personally I'm still trying to fathom all that is mean by. "Be still and know that I am God"
And how to be (or achieve) that "still".
Peace and kindness,
Fred

Uh-oh. If I've been teacherly I promise it was unintentional (yes, I've been teaching for many years, and I suppose I don't always realize the degree to which that shows). It's a little discouraging to see what many years in lecture halls and seminar rooms has done to me, but I hope at least that I haven't been teacherly in a bad way. If I have, or am in future, please don't hesitate to tell me so. I'll do my best to tone it down where I can (though, honestly, I don't trust myself to notice when I'm doing it--I'm afraid it's probably become second-nature by now).

No, no, don't apologize. I meant it in the most complimentary sense. You didn't put me to work by being "teacherly", you did it by pointing out things I hadn't thought of, and referencing sources that bear directly on the subject matter at hand that I wasn't aware of. It's my "studently" nature, not any "teacherly" habits of yours that directed me to follow up on the leads you supplied. I am greatly in your debt. It will take me a long time to mine the lodes you pointed out.

I'm just back home from the weekend, and it will take me a little while to pick up the thread here. I want to read and think some more before responding to several things you said.

I wonder if you would be willing to expand on the way you think about God's being "in here" as opposed to "out there". You have touched on this in several ways, of course, but I would like very much to hear more about how you think about this given the traditions upon which you have drawn. Part of what intrigues me about this is whether you take there to be a very deep distinction between the two, "in here" and "out there", and whether you think that the two are complementary or whether you think that we should, as it were, turn insofar as we are able from what is "out there" and seek our spirituality entirely within.

The distinction between "inner" and "outer", "above" and "below", "spiritual" and "material" is pretty fundamental, I think, but, like all distinctions, it is a creation of the rational intellect. This doesn't mean it isn't "real", but it does mean that it should be recognized as secondary, or derivative in nature.

In Jacob's dream of the ladder between earth and heaven, he saw angels both ascending and descending. I think it is a grave error to suppose that the goal is to "get to heaven" and leave the "earth" completely behind. The real purpose of spiritual practice while we are in the body is to harmonize and unite heaven and earth, to bring heaven into earth, not to get away from earth and into heaven.

Jesus said, "this is the will of Him who sent me, that of all that He has given me, I should lose nothing, but should raise it up at the last day". I interpret this teaching to mean that the ultimate goal of spiritual practice is to imbue matter with Spirit, to infuse it with meaning and purpose, to bring it into full cooperative union with the values and purposes of Spirit, not to call it bad names and try to get away from it.

From this point of view it is equally important to take some "earth" with us into "heaven". The Apostle Peter's vision of the net that caught all kinds of fish was interpreted to mean that he should "call nothing common or unclean". I know this is usually interpreted to mean that he should take the gospel to Gentiles as well as Jews, but I think its esoteric meaning is that there is tremendous spiritual value in material existence, and we should not denigrate it and call it evil.

So no, I don't think God is found only and exclusively "within". There is a right and proper alternation of focus between the inner and outer worlds. While we are in the body, it is far easier, and thus more common, to become completely focused on the outer world. But it is entirely possible to go too far the other direction, and I think this is what some of the more extreme forms of the ascetic tradition do. The antidote to avoiding either extreme is healthy alternation. It is yet another illusion of the rational mind to suppose that one or the other has to be "right" and should be embraced exclusively, while the other is "wrong" and therefore must be shunned completely.

You guys are way over my head, but I enjoy reading your posts in hopes that I can get something out of them.
Personally I'm still trying to fathom all that is mean by. "Be still and know that I am God"
and how to be (or achieve) that "still".
Peace and kindness,
Fred

I'm afraid I may not be much help with "Be still and know that I am God" because this isn't how I think about these things and so it is foreign to me. But please, if I say anything that doesn't make sense tell me so in order that I can try to be more clear. I have a longstanging interest in the Catholic mystical tradition but I still often find it difficult to articulate myself clearly when discussing it.

On the question of stillness: This isn't the first time you've written something that made me think that you might really like St.Teresa of Avila. If you haven't already encountered her extraordinary book The Interior Castle, it's something you might want to read. I can't think of a better or more accessible work on the subject of stillness and the prayer of stillness. It is one of the great treasures of Catholic mystical writing.

I'm sorry to keep dropping names. This thread has made me realize that I think about these topics in terms of particular mystics whom I've read and from whom I've learned. But I know that it can become quite tedious to have a discussion with someone who keeps dropping names and referring to books one hasn't oneself read. If you can bear with me, and let me know when I haven't been sufficiently clear, I will be most grateful for your patience. And as for The Interior Castle, there are a number of good translations available in paperback (the best translations are those by Allison Peers and Kieran Kavanaugh). It's the kind of book that is nice to own, because it's so chock-full of insight that it is nice to have a copy of one's own in which to write and circle and underline. One can learn a lot about prayer from St.Teresa.

No, no, don't apologize. I meant it in the most complimentary sense. You didn't put me to work by being "teacherly", you did it by pointing out things I hadn't thought of, and referencing sources that bear directly on the subject matter at hand that I wasn't aware of. It's my "studently" nature, not any "teacherly" habits of yours that directed me to follow up on the leads you supplied. I am greatly in your debt. It will take me a long time to mine the lodes you pointed out.

I'm just back home from the weekend, and it will take me a little while to pick up the thread here. I want to read and think some more before responding to several things you said.

This is certainly very gracious of you and I am deeply appreciative. I see you have posted something in the last few minutes which I expect I will be thinking about throughout the day--so thanks for that too. As always, I look forward to your future posts with great eagerness.

(I assume this discussion is open to all and don't want to appear as an intruder, but the topic has been of interest to me for a long time. So here are some comments on what has been written so far).

Hesychasm, Transcendental Meditation, Centering Prayer, and "The Cloud of Unknowing" all describe a technique of meditation. The techniques are so similar that we can assume a common source - probably in India 2 or 3 millennia ago. The proponents, however, each see their own practice as unique. Once relegated to monks and mystics, the practice has been described by Herbert Benson in his book "The Relaxation Response" which demystifies it and brings it to the masses without its religious trappings. An effective method of coping with stress and even capable of bringing on "oceanic feelings", it is another question entirely whether this is a means to union with the divine.

Hesychasm (the Jesus prayer) is Orthodox, TM is from Hinduism, and the remaining two from Catholic Christianity.

Aside from meditation, the Sufi dervishes seek union through dance; the Tao is filled with mystical, often light-hearted contemplations of the divine (although it doesn't use that term); and Zen, a Japanese mix of Chinese Tao and Indian Buddhism, employs the koan as a way to enlightenment. The philosophers Plato and Pythagoras are both seen as early mystics.

The point being - all traditions have sought the divine within even though the terms can be different: God, Atman, Nirvana, Brahman, etc. We all, East and West, seem to be prey to the need to realize ultimate reality with the methods used being remarkably similar, the crucial difference being the "self" as mentioned in my post above.

It is noteworthy that mystics in the West have often been looked upon with suspicious eyes by the established Church. Where Francis of Assisi toed the line, Madame Guyon went her own way and was soon off in la-la land with her clairvoyance, mental telepathy, levitation (never observed) and wound up in prison (17th century France). She is a good example of what the spiritual masters in all traditions have warned against, and what mysticism is NOT.

A good survey of the whole subject remains Evelyn Underhill's book "Mysticism" written about one hundred years ago.

(Excuse the interruption and please continue).

Okay, so I know I'm going to need to think about this, and will probably return to post on what you've written again. But I enjoyed reading it and would like at least to take a first pass at your very thoughtful and pregnant remarks. There's a good chance that I will end up rethinking what I say and revising at least some of it in a future post. Hope that's okay.


The distinction between "inner" and "outer", "above" and "below", "spiritual" and "material" is pretty fundamental, I think, but, like all distinctions, it is a creation of the rational intellect. This doesn't mean it isn't "real", but it does mean that it should be recognized as secondary, or derivative in nature.

It is intriguing to me that you associate, or appear to associate (please correct me if I've jumped to unwarranted conclusions) the "inner" with the "above" and the "spiritual" and the "outer" with the "below" and the "material". I like what you say about the derivative nature of these distinctions. This makes a good deal more sense to me than what one sometimes finds, namely the idea that the "outer"-"below"-"material" is somehow fictive. I hope we can return to this in time, since I am interested to learn more about the ways in which this plays itself out in spiritual practice. (You've already said some interesting things about this below, but it's such a rich a topic that it would be fun to mine it further.)


In Jacob's dream of the ladder between earth and heaven, he saw angels both ascending and descending. I think it is a grave error to suppose that the goal is to "get to heaven" and leave the "earth" completely behind. The real purpose of spiritual practice while we are in the body is to harmonize and unite heaven and earth, to bring heaven into earth, not to get away from earth and into heaven.

I like what you say here a great deal. Personally, I find myself turned off by those who think of their spirituality in terms of heaven and hell. I don't begrudge them this, it's just that it's not what occurs to me when I think about these things. I suppose that this is due, in part at least, to the fact that--as you say--it is so often accompanied by the notion that the here-and-now is something to be denigrated or fled from or otherwise regarded with suspicion. And you've touched on another common theme in many mystical traditions, viz. the striving for harmony. Augustine, whose work has had the greatest impact on me, held that where there is disharmony there is disorder and so the absence of peace--this can be true of the self no less than the world or one's relation to others. Dis-integration leads to disintegration and dispersion. (This motivates the "integrationist" tendencies in my thinking which I mention at the end of this post.)


Jesus said, "this is the will of Him who sent me, that of all that He has given me, I should lose nothing, but should raise it up at the last day". I interpret this teaching to mean that the ultimate goal of spiritual practice is to imbue matter with Spirit, to infuse it with meaning and purpose, to bring it into full cooperative union with the values and purposes of Spirit, not to call it bad names and try to get away from it.

I'd like to hear more about imbuing matter with Spirit. I'm not sure I understand what you have in mind. But I certainly do agree with you that the broadly Gnostic attitude which sees matter as evil or as the source of evil is gravely mistaken. There is a tendency for people to suppose that our spiritual life is something purely and wholly inner, that we pray and worship only with our minds, as though we were nothing more than minds in a fleshy prison. I believe we are minded bodies or bodily minds, by which I just mean to say that it ought to be the whole person and not just some one faculty or other that is called upon in prayer and worship, etc. This is something acknowledged by many mystics when they call our attention to the importance of different bodily postures and the like. It isn't just the mind that prays. The body prays too because we are bodily.


From this point of view it is equally important to take some "earth" with us into "heaven". The Apostle Peter's vision of the net that caught all kinds of fish was interpreted to mean that he should "call nothing common or unclean". I know this is usually interpreted to mean that he should take the gospel to Gentiles as well as Jews, but I think its esoteric meaning is that there is tremendous spiritual value in material existence, and we should not denigrate it and call it evil.

This is a very interesting point, not to mention an interesting reading of the text. I can't tell you how very nice it is to find someone at this site refer to the "esoteric meaning". Too much supine literalism. That said, I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you mean by taking some "earth" with us to "heaven". I have the vague sense that I'm being thick-headed about this--which is to say that I suspect my faillure to understand is my fault and not yours. I'll give it more thought.


So no, I don't think God is found only and exclusively "within". There is a right and proper alternation of focus between the inner and outer worlds. While we are in the body, it is far easier, and thus more common, to become completely focused on the outer world. But it is entirely possible to go too far the other direction, and I think this is what some of the more extreme forms of the ascetic tradition do. The antidote to avoiding either extreme is healthy alternation. It is yet another illusion of the rational mind to suppose that one or the other has to be "right" and should be embraced exclusively, while the other is "wrong" and therefore must be shunned completely.

I agree with what you say about some of the more extreme forms of asceticism. And, as I say above, I think that this is in evidence outside of asceticism, in the view that it is the mind alone that is engaged in our spiritual life. Here I believe that what is required is integration of the whole person.

It is therefore interesting to me the way you put this in terms of alternation rather than in terms of integration. It would be nice if we could talk more about this some time (it certainly doesn't have to be now) since I tend to be more "integrationist" on this score.

(I assume this discussion is open to all and don't want to appear as an intruder, but the topic has been of interest to me for a long time. So here are some comments on what has been written so far).

Hesychasm, Transcendental Meditation, Centering Prayer, and "The Cloud of Unknowing" all describe a technique of meditation. The techniques are so similar that we can assume a common source - probably in India 2 or 3 millenia ago. The proponents, however, each see their own practice as unique. Once relegated to monks and mystics, the practice has been described by Herbert Benson in his book "The Relaxation Response" which demystifies it and brings it to the masses without its religious trappings. An effective method of coping with stress and even capable of bringing on "oceanic feelings", it is another question entirely whether this is a means to union with the divine.

Hesychasm (the Jesus prayer) is Orthodox, TM is from Hinduism, and the remaining two from Catholic Christianity.

Aside from meditation, the Sufi dervishes seek union through dance; the Tao is filled with mystical, often light-hearted contemplations of the divine (although it doesn't use that term); and Zen, a Japanese mix of Chinese Tao and Indian Buddhism, employs the koan as a way to enlightenment. The philosophers Plato and Pythagoras are both seen as early mystics.

The point being - all traditions have sought the divine within even though the terms can be different: God, Atman, Nirvana, Brahman, etc. We all, East and West, seem to be prey to the need to realize ultimate reality with the methods used being remarkably similar, the crucial difference being the "self" as mentioned in my post above.

It is noteworthy that mystics in the West have often been looked upon with suspicious eyes by the established Church. Where Francis of Assisi toed the line, Madame Guyon went her own way and was soon off in la-la land with her clairvoyance, mental telepathy, levitation (never observed) and wound up in prison (17th century France). She is a good example of what the spiritual masters in all traditions have warned against, and what mysticism is NOT.

A good survey of the whole subject remains Evelyn Underhill's book "Mysticism" written about one hundred years ago.

(Excuse the interruption and please continue).

I will return to your post in a few minutes, but I didn't want to delay encouraging your participation. Please don't feel the least hesitation about joining us. Your contributions are most welcome, Athos, and I look forward to more posts from you as we continue.

(I assume this discussion is open to all and don't want to appear as an intruder, but the topic has been of interest to me for a long time. So here are some comments on what has been written so far).

You are decidedly not an intruder. I think we all appreciate, and can benefit from, your contributions.


Hesychasm, Transcendental Meditation, Centering Prayer, and "The Cloud of Unknowing" all describe a technique of meditation. The techniques are so similar that we can assume a common source - probably in India 2 or 3 millennia ago. The proponents, however, each see their own practice as unique. Once relegated to monks and mystics, the practice has been described by Herbert Benson in his book "The Relaxation Response" which demystifies it and brings it to the masses without its religious trappings. An effective method of coping with stress and even capable of bringing on "oceanic feelings", it is another question entirely whether this is a means to union with the divine.


I'm honestly a little incredulous about the "common source" hypothesis, myself. But I suppose that's neither here nor there. I would like to pause briefly over the cottage industry that has emerged over the last hundred years or so and which involves the de-mythologization (to appropriate a technical term from a rather different theoretical context) of the various mystical traditions in order to put them in the service of the "self-help"/"personal growth" crowd. I find the attempt to detach these mystical practices from the broader religious and cultural traditions in which they are rooted, in order to sanitize them of anything too overtly religious and offer them up to the syncretistic tastes of the Western reading public, to be itself a kind of violence. Certainly I think that it does violence to these traditions. Part of the hard work involved in studying them is that, in order to understand them without desiccating them, one has to do the work to at least try to encounter them on their own terms, in the light of their own commitments and self-understanding. We in the West tend to pillage and distort these ancient practices and traditions by demanding (all too often) that they meet us on our own terms, conform to our own often relativistic prejudgments regarding different religious and spiritual traditions. This ends up stripping them of much of their content. At least, this is my own opinion. I recognize that I am very likely in the minority, and I don't wish to try to compel anyone to see things my way. This is just where I am on this question, and why I have such a dim view of so much of the New Age stuff.


Hesychasm (the Jesus prayer) is Orthodox, TM is from Hinduism, and the remaining two from Catholic Christianity.

Aside from meditation, the Sufi dervishes seek union through dance; the Tao is filled with mystical, often light-hearted contemplations of the divine (although it doesn't use that term); and Zen, a Japanese mix of Chinese Tao and Indian Buddhism, employs the koan as a way to enlightenment. The philosophers Plato and Pythagoras are both seen as early mystics.

The point being - all traditions have sought the divine within even though the terms can be different: God, Atman, Nirvana, Brahman, etc. We all, East and West, seem to be prey to the need to realize ultimate reality with the methods used being remarkably similar, the crucial difference being the "self" as mentioned in my post above.

I'm not sure that I agree with you about this. To be sure, the various mystical traditions have a lot in common. But they differ in important and deep ways. They certainly aren't interchangeable (I know you haven't said that they are). Each of these traditions is itself embedded and rooted in broader traditions from which--in my opinion--it cannot be detached without causing considerable distortion. I've witnessed a number of people in the comparative religions crowd seize upon some feature or features that these traditions share, say the call to stillness or quietude, hold it up and say something to the effect that these traditions are all really doing and talking about the same thing. But the notion of stillness or quietude often means different things, and is situated in different ways, serves different ends, and is achieved by different means in the different traditions. I myself have called attention to the often remarkable similarities, of course, but this should never come at the very high price of disregarding the differences. Stillness in, say, Teresa of Avila, isn't interchangeable with stillness in, say, Zen, this for the reason that the notion of stillness is embedded in two radically different thought-worlds. I am a big fan of the synthetic approach which sees affinities and establishes connections across traditions, but this must be disciplined by a rigorous appreciation of deep and important distinctions.


It is noteworthy that mystics in the West have often been looked upon with suspicious eyes by the established Church. Where Francis of Assisi toed the line, Madame Guyon went her own way and was soon off in la-la land with her clairvoyance, mental telepathy, levitation (never observed) and wound up in prison (17th century France). She is a good example of what the spiritual masters in all traditions have warned against, and what mysticism is NOT.

I don't know how often this has happened. Surely it has, but it seems to me that the reasons have been different in different cases. Origen got in a lot of trouble but not for his mysticism. St. Anthony was regarded as an emulable character throughout the early Church and there were a great many mystical writers whose work found ready acceptance by the ecclesiatical authorities. Meister Eckhart got in trouble for delivering sermons in German and saying things like "God is nothing(ness)"--and then refusing to explain what he meant when queried. St Catherine of Siena was, as a teenager, regarded with sufficient esteem in her own lifetime that the Pope himself was obliged to pay attention to her. So you're right that there has been some tension, but there's also been lots of acceptance. It depends upon what the mystic says or what he or she calls for (in the way of reform, mostly). Personally, I think it's a good thing for there to be a little bit of tension between the mystic and the prelate, the prophet and the priest. They tend to keep each other honest.


A good survey of the whole subject remains Evelyn Underhill's book "Mysticism" written about one hundred years ago.

It's been some years since I read Underhill, but I'm glad you mentioned it. I suspect it's time for a re-read. There's an excellent three-volume history of Christian mysticism by Bernard McGinn, if you're interested and haven't already read it. It's quite scholarly, but not so scholarly as to be a bore. I'm not completely jazzed by his discussion of Augustine, but on the whole I don't think I've found anything in English to compete with it. He's especially good on the Medieval mystics.


(Excuse the interruption and please continue).

Well, I do hope we've put this interruption business to rest. I enjoyed reading and thinking about your post and I hope you'll stick around and share your thoughts with us.

By the by, I've meant to ask you for some time now: Is your username a nod in the direction of the Holy Mountain? If so, it would be wonderful to have someone who can speak to the extraordinary and venerable Athonite tradition regarding the matters we are discussing here.

***EDIT***
The McGinn books I recommended are pretty thin when it comes to Orthodox mysticism. He does say a bit about early figures like Evagrius of Pontus and Ps.-Macarius, but his focus is avowedly Western. So while there's some really good stuff on people like Bernard of Clairvaux, this isn't the place to read about the history of hesychasm.

I just didn't want to lead anybody down the wrong path here. The study is very hepful in all sorts of ways, but it has clearly delimited boundaries, and it isn't the place to turn for an in-depth account of mysticism in Eastern Christianity.

For Akoue - (I haven't figured out yet how to put a quoted reply in those neat little boxes so this will have to do). Thank you for your good response. It encourages me to be more focused in what I write and less casual. Btw, Athos is not a reference to the Holy Mountain but rather from the Three Musketeers. :)

Transcendental Meditation (TM) is a yoga discipline from the Vedic tradition roughly 1000 BC. It was brought to the West in the 1970's and I took the training in 1975. It was never promoted as religious but as a practice anyone could do without reference to religion. This was not entirely true as it finishes with a Hindu ritual when the practitioner receives his/her mantra. Briefly, it consists of two daily periods of 20 minutes where one repeats the mantra until the mind is increasingly "empty". Then one more or less basks in the emptiness to provide relaxation and a sense of well-being. Done faithfully, it does indeed provide those benefits and helps to relieve stress.

Centering Prayer (CP) began as an aid to meditation at Trappist retreats and was founded by Abbot Thomas Keating. I studied CP under Fr. Basil Pennington in 1987 who was the chief promotor of the technique for many years. It consists of two daily periods of 20 minutes where one repeats a mantra (in this case, a word like Jesus, or God) until the mind is increasingly empty. The idea is to open oneself to God by eliminating all distractions and is religious. Keating specifically said that he wished to incorporate Eastern meditation techniques to help retreatants. Another primary source claimed by Pennington was The Cloud of Unknowing. This always seemed to me to be a misreading of The Cloud. In any case, the two techniques, when the religious trappings are dropped, are precisely identical.

Hesychasm is using a mantra, the Jesus Prayer, to achieve the same result - a quieting or stillness of the mind to be receptive to the divine. It is practiced usually in the evening, and is ultimately to be so habitual that the prayer, in effect, is always in the heart of the pray-er.

The similarities among all three techniques are so striking that I believe they can be sourced, through various developments, to the yoga discipline from the Vedas - especially since TM states that very fact and since CP has acknowledged its debt to TM. I don't find it unusual that the basic practice found its way to the Orthodox in the distant past.

The Relaxation Response is identical to TM and CP (without the religion) and uses the word "one" as its mantra, although any word will do. If this, as you say, is a detachment of mystical practices from their broader religious and cultural traditions, I say, so what? Isn't it a good thing to bring an effective practice to many people where the benefits can be shared? Personal growth and self-help are surely good things. This is not to say the TM or the CP people cannot continue with their ways. If they couch it in their own religious traditions, I see nothing wrong with that. I don't have what seems to be your disdain for syncretism. Certainly I don't consider it a kind of violence to older traditions. We always learn from and build upon what has gone before.

As to the various mystical traditions differing in "important and deep ways", I disagree. I agree they differ on the outside and in ritual, but the goal is the same. It's difficult to describe in words the goal, but "ultimate reality" is probably as good as any. Each tradition will express it differently, but I think it boils down to the same thing. John of the Cross was a poet and wrote beautifully as a poet in 16th century Spain. Therese of Liseaux experienced the most ordinary of lives yet each are called mystics. It seems to me both were onto the same thing, although in very different outward ways. The same holds true of Zen and Teresa of Avila - their stillness may have been from different thought worlds, but not their sought after "beyond-stillness" - stillness itself being a means and not the goal.

Having said all that, I realize that you make an excellent point of being wary of rushing helter-skelter into some jumble of synthesizing religions. I hope I haven't implied that I would be in favor of that. In my opinion, every approach has value and, as you say, is informed by culture and tradition. I don't think any one "way" is the "true" way for all. And I also appreciate your noting that most mystics have been readily accepted within the tradition they find themselves.

Thanks for the Bernard McGinn recommendation. I'll look for a used copy at Amazon.

(I assume this discussion is open to all and don't want to appear as an intruder, but the topic has been of interest to me for a long time. So here are some comments on what has been written so far).
By all means, jump right in.


Hesychasm, Transcendental Meditation, Centering Prayer, and "The Cloud of Unknowing" all describe a technique of meditation. The techniques are so similar that we can assume a common source - probably in India 2 or 3 millennia ago. The proponents, however, each see their own practice as unique. Once relegated to monks and mystics, the practice has been described by Herbert Benson in his book "The Relaxation Response" which demystifies it and brings it to the masses without its religious trappings. An effective method of coping with stress and even capable of bringing on "oceanic feelings", it is another question entirely whether this is a means to union with the divine.
I might quibble a little bit with your characterization that all these sources "describe a technique of meditation". The Cloud of Unknowing is the only one of these that I'm familiar with, but my reading of it is that the author is first and foremost concerned with motives, and only secondarily with methods. He does, of course, offer suggestions about how to proceed, but again and again he returns to caution the reader against any motive but Love for undertaking this work. Whether they all have a common textual source, I'm happy to leave to scholars, but it doesn't strain my credibility at all to think that they are all inspired by the same spiritual reality.


The point being - all traditions have sought the divine within even though the terms can be different: God, Atman, Nirvana, Brahman, etc. We all, East and West, seem to be prey to the need to realize ultimate reality with the methods used being remarkably similar, the crucial difference being the "self" as mentioned in my post above.
That one word, and the diametrically opposite meanings attached to it by East and West is probably responsible for more misunderstandings and arguments between them than any other. It's a shame really, because the Reality that they both aspire to is the same, I think.


It is noteworthy that mystics in the West have often been looked upon with suspicious eyes by the established Church.
And not without reason, I'd say. Historically, seers, prophets and mystics are almost always disruptive of ecclesiastical order and tend to cause all kinds of problems for the authoritarian hierarchy. As I'm sure you can tell, my sympathies are with the mystics in that struggle.

For Akoue - (I haven't figured out yet how to put a quoted reply in those neat little boxes so this will have to do). Thank you for your good response. It encourages me to be more focused in what I write and less casual. Btw, Athos is not a reference to the Holy Mountain but rather from the Three Musketeers. :)

Transcendental Meditation (TM) is a yoga discipline from the Vedic tradition roughly 1000 BC. It was brought to the West in the 1970's and I took the training in 1975. It was never promoted as religious but as a practice anyone could do without reference to religion. This was not entirely true as it finishes with a Hindu ritual when the practitioner receives his/her mantra. Briefly, it consists of two daily periods of 20 minutes where one repeats the mantra until the mind is increasingly "empty". Then one more or less basks in the emptiness to provide relaxation and a sense of well-being. Done faithfully, it does indeed provide those benefits and helps to relieve stress.

Centering Prayer (CP) began as an aid to meditation at Trappist retreats and was founded by Abbot Thomas Keating. I studied CP under Fr. Basil Pennington in 1987 who was the chief promotor of the technique for many years. It consists of two daily periods of 20 minutes where one repeats a mantra (in this case, a word like Jesus, or God) until the mind is increasingly empty. The idea is to open oneself to God by eliminating all distractions and is religious. Keating specifically said that he wished to incorporate Eastern meditation techniques to help retreatants. Another primary source claimed by Pennington was The Cloud of Unknowing. This always seemed to me to be a misreading of The Cloud. In any case, the two techniques, when the religious trappings are dropped, are precisely identical.

Hesychasm is using a mantra, the Jesus Prayer, to achieve the same result - a quieting or stillness of the mind to be receptive to the divine. It is practiced usually in the evening, and is ultimately to be so habitual that the prayer, in effect, is always in the heart of the pray-er.

The similarities among all three techniques are so striking that I believe they can be sourced, through various developments, to the yoga discipline from the Vedas - especially since TM states that very fact and since CP has acknowledged its debt to TM. I don't find it unusual that the basic practice found its way to the Orthodox in the distant past.

You are certainly right to point out the striking similarities regarding technique. I don't, however, regard similarites of technique to constitute especially deep similarites among the various mystical systems. I want to be cautious here, because I don't want to veer too far from my earlier post, in which I called attention to the similarities among different mystical traditions, to an excessively deflationary attitude toward their similarities. Different mystical traditions are rooted in different theological--philosophical traditions, and each has adopted (or adapted) various techniques and put them in the service of those theological--philosophical traditions. So what they have in common are an array of techniques, together with a number of (for lack of a better word) shared spiritual values like stillness, harmony, etc. But these values have different meanings in different traditions, and so the techniques which subserve these values also have different meanings. For instance: In hesychasm, the goal is theosis, and this involves grace and the efforts of the individual in order to repair the damage to the soul and self caused by sin. The mystical praxis of hesychasm serves the goal of theosis--which is itself a very complex notion deeply embedded in a rich and complex theological system. In other words, its similarities to the mystical disciplines of, say, Islam, notwithstanding, hesychasm is what it is by virtue of the particularity of the theological thought-world to which it belongs. Shorn of that thought-world, it is just a set of techniques without meaning or significance--apart from the palliative psychological effects of meditation (which are considerable). Islamic mysticism, esp. that of Ibn Arabi, tends to be pantheistic, and so the meaning and purpose of the disciplines or techniques of mystical praxis differ in important ways from those of, say, the Cistercians--who weren't pantheistic and who had a very different view of humanity-in-the-cosmos. Again, take the techniques out of the thought-world and what you have are just a bunch of techniques which stand for nothing in particular, have no meaning or significance apart from the psychological benefits reaped by the practitioner. So, I guess, what I'm getting at is--in part at least--that I am resistant to the temptation to psychologize the mystical by reducing its meaning to the feelings of inner peace or what-have-you of those who practice the techniques in isolation. I also, though, find it difficult to downplay the considerable differences between a tradition like hesychasm--for which sin is a central concept without which hesychasm makes little sense by its own lights--and a tradition from which the concept of sin (understood in quite specific terms) is absent. This looks to me like an absolutely fundamental difference.


I don't have what seems to be your disdain for syncretism. Certainly I don't consider it a kind of violence to older traditions. We always learn from and build upon what has gone before.

I didn't intend it to come across as disdain, but having re-read my earlier post I see that it did. For that I apologize. My disdain is not for syncretism as such, but for the repackaging and marketing of mysticism in the form of self-help schemes (emphasis here on "marketing"). This is not what you are advocating, though. Still, in the interests of clarity, allow me to say that I don't disdain syncretism; I am deeply suspicious of it--or at least of certain varieties of it. I am not at all opposed to learning about other traditions and drawing upon them for one's own development. But I am persuaded that when one strips an arsenal of techniques from the thought-worlds in which those techniques were midwifed and within which they have their meaning and significance, then palpable violence is done both to the traditions and to the techniques. I reserve my disdain for the consumerist mentality that, as I said before, pillages other cultures and traditions in search of an easy path to enlightenment or a happy. We in the West are voracious in our appetites for pseudo-spirituality, in no small measure because authentic spirituality is damn hard work. But, again, I recognize that this is off-topic, since this is not at all what you are advocating.

(But now I fear I am pontificating and so I will move along. I really don't mean to turn this into a debate about authentic vs. inauthentic spirituality. I did, however, want to offer some explanation for the disdain that came through and which you rightly called me on. There is something in the vicinity of what we are discussing that vexes me. But that isn't what we are talking about, so there's no need for me to dwell on it any more than I already have. I hope this at least makes a little more sense of my previous remarks.)


As to the various mystical traditions differing in "important and deep ways", I disagree. I agree they differ on the outside and in ritual, but the goal is the same.

Here it is possible we will have to agree to disagree. To my way of thinking, what you nicely shed light upon above are similarities of technique. Now, I don't want to commit myself to the idea that technique is somehow insubstantial, but it is, I am prepared to say, less substantial than the beliefs and world-views which lie beneath and motivate those techniques. I would therefore say that they agree substantially on the outside, but differ when we get to the real meat of it. It is the beliefs, the deeply held religious, philosophical, and spiritual commitments that are the real substance and the techniques are there, alongside a great many other things, to serve those commitments.


It's difficult to describe in words the goal, but "ultimate reality" is probably as good as any. Each tradition will express it differently, but I think it boils down to the same thing. John of the Cross was a poet and wrote beautifully as a poet in 16th century Spain. Therese of Liseaux experienced the most ordinary of lives yet each are called mystics. It seems to me both were onto the same thing, although in very different outward ways. The same holds true of Zen and Teresa of Avila - their stillness may have been from different thought worlds, but not their sought after "beyond-stillness" - stillness itself being a means and not the goal.

Here again, I suspect we just see it differently. I don't think the term "ultimate reality" can be applied univocally across traditions. I'm also not at all comfortable saying that for all these traditions "ultimate reality" is the goal. (Here, of course, a lot will turn on how the locution "ultimate reality" gets parsed.) I think that the goals do, in fact, differ but that different traditions have come to recognize certain techniques and virtues to serve their respective goals. It's true that if we abstract enough we can take all these traditions into view at a glance and see them as engaged in the same sort of endeavor. But that requires a level of abstraction that, as I see it anyway, ends up obfuscating more than it reveals. If we abstract enough then all differences fade into oblivion. So while I agree that at a certain level of abstraction these traditions share certain common contours, nevertheless I think that it is important to descend from that level of abstraction to take account of the differences--differences which I believe to be fundamental precisely because they are differences of belief and self-understanding rather than of technique.


Having said all that, I realize that you make an excellent point of being wary of rushing helter-skelter into some jumble of synthesizing religions. I hope I haven't implied that I would be in favor of that. In my opinion, every approach has value and, as you say, is informed by culture and tradition. I don't think any one "way" is the "true" way for all. And I also appreciate your noting that most mystics have been readily accepted within the tradition they find themselves.

I appreciate your saying this. And no, I definitely do not mean to suggest that I take you to favor the "jumble" approach-- and I hope that my speaking to it above doesn't give the impression that I take you to favor it. It was my intention to try to unpack my reservations about syncretism in light of your remarks. Perhaps you and I see this particular issue in incommensurable ways, but that's fine too, since we certainly share an interest in the same terrain. And I'm enjoying your posts greatly, whether we happen to agree on this particular point.

(I haven't figured out yet how to put a quoted reply in those neat little boxes so this will have to do).
Click on the blue "quote user" button at the bottom of the post. The window that opens up shows the quote tags at beginning and end, and you can break up the quoted post by inserting more tags as necessary (the little "quote bubble" icon at the top of the window makes this easy). By clicking the "preview" button at the bottom of the composition window you can see how your post will actually appear before you submit it.



The Relaxation Response is identical to TM and CP (without the religion) and uses the word "one" as its mantra, although any word will do. If this, as you say, is a detachment of mystical practices from their broader religious and cultural traditions, I say, so what? Isn't it a good thing to bring an effective practice to many people where the benefits can be shared? Personal growth and self-help are surely good things. This is not to say the TM or the CP people cannot continue with their ways. If they couch it in their own religious traditions, I see nothing wrong with that. I don't have what seems to be your disdain for syncretism. Certainly I don't consider it a kind of violence to older traditions. We always learn from and build upon what has gone before.
I tend to agree with you here. For scholarly purposes, the tradition and historical context that various practices arise from are important, I suppose, but for those of us whose interest runs more toward practical applications, I'm not sure it matters much.

By all means, jump right in.


I might quibble a little bit with your characterization that all these sources "describe a technique of meditation". The Cloud of Unknowing is the only one of these that I'm familiar with, but my reading of it is that the author is first and foremost concerned with motives, and only secondarily with methods. He does, of course, offer suggestions about how to proceed, but again and again he returns to caution the reader against any motive but Love for undertaking this work. Whether they all have a common textual source, I'm happy to leave to scholars, but it doesn't strain my credibility at all to think that they are all inspired by the same spiritual reality.


That one word, and the diametrically opposite meanings attached to it by East and West is probably responsible for more misunderstandings and arguments between them than any other. It's a shame really, because the Reality that they both aspire to is the same, I think.


And not without reason, I'd say. Historically, seers, prophets and mystics are almost always disruptive of ecclesiastical order and tend to cause all kinds of problems for the authoritarian hierarchy. As I'm sure you can tell, my sympathies are with the mystics in that struggle.


You make a very good point aboutThe Cloud. The book really is much more than just a technique and is well worth reading. However, TM and CP are simply techniques and they both acknowledge that. Hesychasm also is more than a technique. I was pointing out the strong similarities among them trying to indicate a common source. But Hesychasm does gather much about prayer around itself.

All techniques, for that matter, are designed for purposes beyond mere technique. My point, in the later post to Akoue, indicates just that. So I agree that the Reality aspired to is the same.

The word "self" having diametrically different meanings in East and West is not immediately clear to me - what you are saying. I'm also not clear why the notion is responsible for misunderstandings and arguments between East and West. Would you write a little more about why you feel this way?

Yes, some mystics have been seen as a threat to established authority, but Akoue wrote a nice corrective, or at least a modification, to the original comment.

I think the three of us posted at more or less the same time and, at least for me, the continuity became somewhat disrupted. Probably unavoidable on this kind of forum. I did go back and read all that was posted and I think I'm up to speed now on what was written.

Can we agree that techniques, as important as they are, are not the heart of the matter? What, then, is the heart of the matter - the meat, as someone said? When I used the phrase "ultimate reality", it was a term of convenience rather than a perfect description of what lies at the root of this discussion.

I suspect, Akoue, that we're not as far apart as you indicate and that our differences will probably fade as understanding of the other's position increases. To that end, I will try to be more concise and not ramble.

Ordinary guy, your post about the "self" continues to intrigue me and I hope you will further describe what you understand to be the conflict between East and West re self.

I think the three of us posted at more or less the same time and, at least for me, the continuity became somewhat disrupted. Probably unavoidable on this kind of forum. I did go back and read all that was posted and I think I'm up to speed now on what was written.

Can we agree that techniques, as important as they are, are not the heart of the matter? What, then, is the heart of the matter - the meat, as someone said? When I used the phrase "ultimate reality", it was a term of convenience rather than a perfect description of what lies at the root of this discussion.

I suspect, Akoue, that we're not as far apart as you indicate and that our differences will probably fade as understanding of the other's position increases. To that end, I will try to be more concise and not ramble.

Ordinary guy, your post about the "self" continues to intrigue me and I hope you will further describe what you understand to be the conflict between East and West re self.

Your reply to ordinaryguy went a long way toward clearing up what was, I think, a misunderstanding on my part of what you were getting at with your earlier post. So, yes, I now see that you and I are in substantial agreement. Always nice when that happens.

And I too will make an effort at concision as well. Sadly, I have a long-standing habit of verbosity and my attempts to get the better of it (over many years) have so far ended mostly in abject failure. As a rule, though, I tend to prefer precision over concision--if a choice between the two has to be made.

With that in mind, and since I have no concise--let alone precise--answer to your question regarding "the meat", I am off to ponder.

The word "self" having diametrically different meanings in East and West is not immediately clear to me - what you are saying. I'm also not clear why the notion is responsible for misunderstandings and arguments between East and West. Would you write a little more about why you feel this way?

As I understand it, in the Eastern traditions, Self--with a capital S--is often equated with Atman, God, or whatever term of art is associated with ultimate reality, and self--the individual human person--is deemed to be a part of that larger whole, whose destiny is to return to it and merge with it.

In Western Christianity, at least (I don't know enough about Islam and Judaism to know how they see it), there is no Self, only self, which is depraved, prideful, and the source of all sorts of evil mischief, and therefore must be at least subjugated, if not destroyed entirely before one is worthy to approach God.

Is this characterization too crude, do you think?

ordinaryguy,
Yes I do believe that your characterization of western self is somewhat crude.
Our human self is indeed full of "prideful, and the source of all sorts of evil mischief"
But there is a certain amount of good in almost all of us and that good needs to be preserved while the evilness needs to be purged from our self.
In other words we need to be cleaned so that only the good remains.
Peace and kindness,
Fred.

Our human self is indeed full of "prideful, and the source of all sorts of evil mischief". But there is a certain amount of good in almost all of us and that good needs to be preserved while the evilness needs to be purged from our self.
In other words we need to be cleaned so that only the good remains.
OK, so the personal self is not wholly evil, but it isn't part of God, and even after being purged of its evilness, it still remains separate and distinct, something other than God, is that the Catholic view?

As I understand it, in the Eastern traditions, Self--with a capital S--is often equated with Atman, God, or whatever term of art is associated with ultimate reality, and self--the individual human person--is deemed to be a part of that larger whole, whose destiny is to return to it and merge with it.

In Western Christianity, at least (I don't know enough about Islam and Judaism to know how they see it), there is no Self, only self, which is depraved, prideful, and the source of all sorts of evil mischief, and therefore must be at least subjugated, if not destroyed entirely before one is worthy to approach God.

This is my understanding also of the "self" as used in the East.

In the West, I haven't come across the "self" as you describe, especially in the mystical literature. Your post to Arcura is how I understand it - as essentially distinct from God.

I was primarily interested in how the different understandings have led too much argument. My own experience is that both sides simply accept the other's definition. However, you may be more aware than I am re arguments over this.

It is intriguing to me that you associate, or appear to associate (please correct me if I've jumped to unwarranted conclusions) the "inner" with the "above" and the "spiritual" and the "outer" with the "below" and the "material". I like what you say about the derivative nature of these distinctions. This makes a good deal more sense to me than what one sometimes finds, namely the idea that the "outer"-"below"-"material" is somehow fictive. I hope we can return to this in time, since I am interested to learn more about the ways in which this plays itself out in spiritual practice. (You've already said some interesting things about this below, but it's such a rich a topic that it would be fun to mine it further.)



I like what you say here a great deal. Personally, I find myself turned off by those who think of their spirituality in terms of heaven and hell. I don't begrudge them this, it's just that it's not what occurs to me when I think about these things. I suppose that this is due, in part at least, to the fact that--as you say--it is so often accompanied by the notion that the here-and-now is something to be denigrated or fled from or otherwise regarded with suspicion. And you've touched on another common theme in many mystical traditions, viz. the striving for harmony. Augustine, whose work has had the greatest impact on me, held that where there is disharmony there is disorder and so the absence of peace--this can be true of the self no less than the world or one's relation to others. Dis-integration leads to disintegration and dispersion. (This motivates the "integrationist" tendencies in my thinking which I mention at the end of this post.)

I'd like to hear more about imbuing matter with Spirit. I'm not sure I understand what you have in mind. But I certainly do agree with you that the broadly Gnostic attitude which sees matter as evil or as the source of evil is gravely mistaken. There is a tendency for people to suppose that our spiritual life is something purely and wholly inner, that we pray and worship only with our minds, as though we were nothing more than minds in a fleshy prison. I believe we are minded bodies or bodily minds, by which I just mean to say that it ought to be the whole person and not just some one faculty or other that is called upon in prayer and worship, etc. This is something acknowledged by many mystics when they call our attention to the importance of different bodily postures and the like. It isn't just the mind that prays. The body prays too because we are bodily.

This is a very interesting point, not to mention an interesting reading of the text. I can't tell you how very nice it is to find someone at this site refer to the "esoteric meaning". Too much supine literalism. That said, I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you mean by taking some "earth" with us to "heaven". I have the vague sense that I'm being thick-headed about this--which is to say that I suspect my faillure to understand is my fault and not yours. I'll give it more thought.
For the idea that the material life has spiritual value, I'm probably most indebted to The Urantia Book (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Urantia_Book). Are you familiar with it? According to it, legions of perfect spiritual beings, of many different orders and types, are fascinated by material incarnation and yearn to know what it's like. Material embodiment is seen as a great privilege and opportunity, and they are eager to interact with and learn from those who have been through it. This transfer of knowledge and wisdom gained through material experience into spiritual dimensions is what I mean by taking some "earth" with us into "heaven". I think this is also what Jesus was talking about when he spoke of his mission to "raise it up at the last day". The phrase, "all that He has given me" refers to the entire material creation, not just conscious beings.


I agree with what you say about some of the more extreme forms of asceticism. And, as I say above, I think that this is in evidence outside of asceticism, in the view that it is the mind alone that is engaged in our spiritual life. Here I believe that what is required is integration of the whole person.

It is therefore interesting to me the way you put this in terms of alternation rather than in terms of integration. It would be nice if we could talk more about this some time (it certainly doesn't have to be now) since I tend to be more "integrationist" on this score.
I don't see any conflict between alternation and integration. In fact, I'd say that the alternation of awareness between inner and outer, above and below, is how integration is achieved. And I think as individuals achieve this unity within their own being, the resulting harmony extends "outward" from the individual person to include the material creation as well.

In the West, I haven't come across the "self" as you describe, especially in the mystical literature.
Are you kidding? The doctrine of original sin, and the preoccupation with sin in all its various types and forms is really the heart of it, it seems to me. And the mystics were no less concerned with it than the more literalist-minded theologians. The author of The Cloud, for example had this to say:

So you are to do with yourself. You must loathe and tire of all that goes on in your mind and your will unless it is God. For otherwise surely whatever it is is between you and God. No wonder you loathe and hate thinking about yourself when you always feel your sin to be a filthy and nauseating lump--you do not particularize--between you and God, and that lump is yourself. For you are to think of it as being identified with yourself: inseparable from you.

So crush all knowledge and all experience of all forms of created things, and of yourself above all.


I was primarily interested in how the different understandings have led too much argument. My own experience is that both sides simply accept the other's definition. However, you may be more aware than I am re arguments over this.
Well, maybe not arguments so much as just a complete failure to engage or understand one another on the subject because the underlying conception of the S/self is so radically different.

ordinaryguy,
From my Catholic understanding I am myself except when I partake of the Holy Eucharist.
It is then that I become one with Jesus and therefore with God.
Peace and kindness,
Fred

Over the years I have read many, many books about religion and the like. I do find that when the student is ready the teacher (or book) will appear. I find that old saying to be so true it's positively scary. I am an evolving person spiritually and probably will keep evolving up until the time I cease to exist on this plane of consciousness.

twinkiedooter,
That's an old Asian but often true saying.
Thanks for reminding me of it,
Fred

Are you kidding? The doctrine of original sin, and the preoccupation with sin in all its various types and forms is really the heart of it, it seems to me. And the mystics were no less concerned with it than the more literalist-minded theologians. The author of The Cloud, for example had this to say:



Well, maybe not arguments so much as just a complete failure to engage or understand one another on the subject because the underlying conception of the S/self is so radically different.

We're talking about two different ideas of the "self". I am referring to the self as the essential core of a person and its relation to the Absolute. Or, as a Buddhist might say, "Your original face before you were born".

Your reference is the aspect of self as human nature and its struggle to deal with that nature. Each is legitimate in the proper context. And your point about the language in The Cloud is a good one.

The self you refer to I have found emphasized in fundamentalist Christianity, also a part of mainstream Christianity although much less emphasized these days, and generally absent (noting your exception) in mystical Christianity.

I understand now where you are coming from re the term.

(PS - Thanks for the tip in your post #21).

We're talking about two different ideas of the "self". I am referring to the self as the essential core of a person and its relation to the Absolute. Or, as a Buddhist might say, "Your original face before you were born".

But isn't that exactly the point, that in Western Christianity, not only did we have no "face before we were born", but after, we still have no "essential core" that is worthy or able to relate to the Absolute, because the small-s "self" that we do have is corrupted by sin?

But isn't that exactly the point, that in Western Christianity, not only did we have no "face before we were born", but after, we still have no "essential core" that is worthy or able to relate to the Absolute, because the small-s "self" that we do have is corrupted by sin?

Christians, I think they would say, can overcome sin by the grace of God. But you're getting into theology here and I'm not a theologian - and am even less comfortable with Christian dogma.

The point about the Buddhist quote (really a Zen koan) is that the face before we were born is not so much to be answered but to be a way of making us think about our relation, in their terms, to "is-ness". In the West, we would say the Absolute. The Zen people like to use riddles which, after long meditation (Zen means meditate), bring sudden awareness.

The Western approach is quite different, but meditation (contemplation) is also a path to whatever we all seek.

This may be a good place to define the term "meditation". In the East, it refers to a non-discursive, non-analytical, (emptying) way. In the West, meditation usually means thinking about "something". To make sure East and West are talking about the same thing, "contemplation" is the accurate term to describe what the East means by meditation.

Btw, (on another topic), you mentioned in the original post your interest in tarot cards and astrology, and that you use astrology on an ongoing basis in your personal life. These are areas I am completely unfamiliar with and would welcome your saying a bit more about this.

This may be a good place to define the term "meditation". In the East, it refers to a non-discursive, non-analytical, (emptying) way. In the West, meditation usually means thinking about "something". To make sure East and West are talking about the same thing, "contemplation" is the accurate term to describe what the East means by meditation.
Good point. I have several times seen Christians bristle at the term "meditation".

Btw, (on another topic), you mentioned in the original post your interest in tarot cards and astrology, and that you use astrology on an ongoing basis in your personal life. These are areas I am completely unfamiliar with and would welcome your saying a bit more about this.
I'd be happy to. Thank you for your interest. I have tried on a few occasions to open such a discussion here on AMHD, with decidedly mixed results. You can have a look at this thread (https://www.askmehelpdesk.com/astronomy/possible-make-accurate-predictions-astrology-206745.html#post995023) for an idea of how I approach the subject, as well as the kinds of reactions I tend to get.

The key misconceptions that I'm continually having to work around are:

It's about predicting the future
It's about dividing the world into twelve kinds of people
It's about the influence (in a causative sense) of the "stars" on human personality and behavior


As I understand and practice it, it's not about any of those things. It's about a voluntary choice to make an ANALOGY between the symbolic elements of astrology and the elements of one's own personality and life circumstances.

I've got to run right now, but have a look and ask some questions and we can follow the discussion where it leads.

Good point. I have several times seen Christians bristle at the term "meditation".

I'd be happy to. Thank you for your interest. I have tried on a few occasions to open such a discussion here on AMHD, with decidedly mixed results. You can have a look at this thread (https://www.askmehelpdesk.com/astronomy/possible-make-accurate-predictions-astrology-206745.html#post995023) for an idea of how I approach the subject, as well as the kinds of reactions I tend to get.

The key misconceptions that I'm continually having to work around are:

It's about predicting the future
It's about dividing the world into twelve kinds of people
It's about the influence (in a causative sense) of the "stars" on human personality and behavior


As I understand and practice it, it's not about any of those things. It's about a voluntary choice to make an ANALOGY between the symbolic elements of astrology and the elements of one's own personality and life circumstances.

I've gotta run right now, but have a look and ask some questions and we can follow the discussion where it leads.

I read that thread you linked to and am not surprised that you got a good dose of disbelief. Astrology and tarot cards are clearly way off the beaten path.

My own approach to these things is to try to be open and listen to what is claimed/said. If the fruits are good, then, as far as I am concerned, more power to you.

My initial question would be how can Tarot cards (or astrology) be specific to the user? Turning over a card, it seems to be, must be random. Astrology, at least as presented in the newspapers, seems to be so ambiguous as to cover just about everybody.

In what sense do you make an analogy between astrology and the elements of your own personality? An example would help.

My own approach to these things is to try to be open and listen to what is claimed/said. If the fruits are good, then, as far as I am concerned, more power to you.
I appreciate that. The truth is, I'm finding it harder to express myself about these things than I would have thought. Maybe it's just an uncertainty about where to start. The more I have learned about what I like to call the "analogical sciences", the more I have come to realize what a fundamental difference there is in the bedrock assumptions they make. The problem in trying to use language to describe this difference is that these assumptions are several layers down from the level of mental abstraction that language occurs on. It's very hard to even be aware that we are making them, and even harder to imagine that other options exist and are within our field of choice.



My initial question would be how can Tarot cards (or astrology) be specific to the user?
First we need to distinguish between natal astrology (interpreting an individual birth chart) and horary astrology (interpreting the import of the present moment). Laying out a spread of cards for a Tarot reading, or throwing the coins to consult the I Ching, or opening the Bible at random and pointing to a text, are all (in my view equivalent) horary (i.e. "of the hour") techniques, and there are many, many others.

It's very straightforward to see how an individual birth chart is specific to that person, because it's just a diagram of the sky at the specific place and the particular moment when breath first fills the lungs.

They key to understanding why horary techniques work as they do is similarly individualistic, namely, that the asker agrees in advance to take the oracle's response as personally relevant and applicable to their query, no matter what it is.

This is why oracles speak gibberish when one attempts to test them "scientifically". The logical sciences assume that detached observation is possible and that it doesn't matter who the observer is. The analogical sciences assume that there are no observers, only participants, and that, "Who wants to know?" is the most important question there is.


Turning over a card, it seems to be, must be random.
The concept of randomness is based on those fundamental assumptions I mentioned earlier, and doesn't really transfer between paradigms. Have I made any headway at all in conveying why that's the case?


Astrology, at least as presented in the newspapers, seems to be so ambiguous as to cover just about everybody.
I notice they've started putting a "for entertainment purposes only" disclaimer on the daily horoscope columns. I welcome that. Truth in labeling.


In what sense do you make an analogy between astrology and the elements of your own personality? An example would help.
If you'll indulge my delay, I'll defer this until I have more time. I will get to it though.

Oops, brain fart. I'll try it again.

In what sense do you make an analogy between astrology and the elements of your own personality? An example would help.

Houses, Planets, and Signs are the essential elements of natal astrology, and I like to use a grammatical analogy to introduce them. Planets are like verbs, and represent basic functions, actions, or urges that need to be expressed to actualize one's life purpose in the material plane. Houses are like nouns, and represent the stages of personality growth and development, or the places where the action represented by the Planets takes place. Signs modify both houses and planets in the same way that adjectives and adverbs modify nouns and verbs. They represent archetypal attitudes or styles that color our expression of planetary functions and the habits of thought that we tend to use in each stage of personality growth and development represented by the Houses.

What follows here is the first part of an "astrological primer" that I've written to help introduce the subject. The whole thing is too long to fit in a single post, so I had to break it up.

What a Birth Chart is
A birth chart is nothing more or less than a diagram of the positions of the other bodies of the solar system as viewed from the place and time of an individual's first breath on earth. The usefulness of this diagram as a tool for self-discovery and growth in understanding depends on the willing choice to treat it as a symbolic mandala that represents the sum of all challenges, opportunities and experiences inherent in the circumstances of one's birth. There is no necessity or requirement to make such an analogy, hence the sages say "the stars inform, they do not compel".

Where you are
You are at the center of the wheel. All the planets in all the houses in all the signs are you. Each planet represents an essential facet of yourself that needs to be expressed in this lifetime. Each house is an essential stage of development or place of action within your evolving consciousness that needs to be recognized and acknowledged as you grow. Each sign brings an archetypal attitude or style to the house it occupies and the planets (if any) that reside there. All of these are you..

Getting Started
Start with houses, trying to grasp all twelve as stages within a complete cyclic process, and learning to recognize how each one relates to the others within that larger framework.

Next, look at each of the planets, trying to recognize the function or purpose or motive or "ray of self" that each represents. Study them in this order: Moon, Mercury, Venus, Sun, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto.

Finally, look at each of the Signs of the zodiac in the following order: Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, Pisces. Notice how the archetypal attitude represented by the signs in this order corresponds and relates to each of the twelve houses in their sequence

Cyclic Structure
A helpful analogy for understanding any cyclic process is the growth, flowering, seed forming and senescence of a plant through its annual cycle. In the spring, the seed germinates, a tiny root and cotyledons form, and the plant begins to take sustenance from earth and heaven. During the vegetative phase, leaf, stem and root mass increases rapidly. The purpose of this stage is to build supporting structures, both above and below the ground. Then vegetative growth slows and the flowering phase begins--delicate, often colorful and fragrant structures meant to attract the attention of flying, hopping and crawling pollinators.

But the goal of the plant's existence is not to produce roots, stems, foliage and flowers, it is to make seed that encapsulates and encodes and harmonizes the experience of this particular cycle with the distilled essence of all previous cycles that was brought forward by the seed that began this cycle. Thus, the value of the present cycle is added to the accumulated value of all previous ones, and the evolutionary process continues.

Similarly, in the human lifetime there are multiple overlapping and intersecting cycles of germination, growth, flowering, seed-making and re-germination. I believe that the study of the astrological symbolism associated with these processes can make us more effective as receptors and incorporators of spiritual value--more efficient at actualizing and passing forward the value of conscious creative experience in the material world. Probably my very favorite among the sayings attributed to Jesus is, "In very truth I tell you that unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone. But if it dies, it brings forth much fruit".

Generally speaking, the first half of a cycle, leading up to opposition, represents the growth and vegetative phase, while the second half, returning to conjunction, represents flowering, seedmaking and replanting. So at full apogee (opposition), one arrives at the maximum extent of the circle this time around, definitely not a time to radically expand the scope of the enterprise. Rather, a time to start thinking about how to concentrate and solidify the gains already made, to preserve what has value in the seed, and reduce the residue back to nutrients available for the next cycle.

The twelfth house, ruled by Neptune and Pisces, is where this "residual reduction" takes place. By that time, the seed is well-formed and secure, but the final step is to break down and release the fertility value still tied up in the structures that were created in the growth and flowering phases, but having served their purpose, are no longer needed.

The Cycle of the Houses
One of the keys to understanding the meaning of the houses is to recognize the relationship of each to the one before and the one after it, as well as the one opposite it. The full cycle of the houses represents the various stages of growth or unfoldment of the person in time and space, so there is a definite sequential structure. In the "language" of astrological symbolism, houses are nouns, the places or stages of growth within a person's life experience.

The first six houses (beginning at the eastern [left] horizon and proceeding counterclockwise) represent the inner or more subjective half of the cycle, while the last six (from the western [right] horizon back to the ascendant) represent our relationships to others in the outer objective world, beginning with one-to-one relationships in the seventh house and progressing through wider and more inclusive relationships to the twelfth house (cosmic, karmic, ancestral relationships).

So, in the first house we assert our unique individuality, and in the (opposite) seventh house we learn to negotiate, make agreements, contracts, and commitments with another person, based on the idea of our separate identities and our equality as individuals.

In the second house, we gather the materials and resources necessary for material security, and in the (opposite) eighth house, the obligations we assumed in our seventh house relationships come due and we have to "make the payments" often from our personal stash. Not only that, we discover that the supposed distinction between us as individuals isn't really so sharp and clear, and that influence and obligations flow both ways.

In the third house, we explore, learn, communicate, and satisfy our curiosity about how the material world works, and in the (opposite) ninth house we seek the meaning and spiritual purpose of our material life. We also learn to test and measure the motives that came to light in the eighth house struggle for power and influence against higher and more noble ideals than narrow personal interests.

In the fourth house, we find our sources of emotional nourishment, sustenance, and security--our home, in the emotional sense of the word, while in the tenth house we find our place and role in the institutions and structures of society--businesses, churches, governments, and other social organizations. Also in the tenth house, we learn how the attempt to codify and enforce and promote the high aspirations and ideals developed in the ninth house so often fall short and disappoint us when translated into the laws, customs and conventions of social structures.

In the fifth house we express ourself and try to make our mark on the world by giving expression to our personal vision through some kind of unique creative performance. The intended audience for this performance is the community of our peers (or those we hope to inspire and impress) represented by the eleventh house. The voluntary associations and friendships of the eleventh house stand in contrast to the relatively inflexible and largely obligatory roles and relationships required by our participation in tenth house organizations.

The sixth house is the most private place in the chart. It's where we go after the "show" of the fifth house and take private stock of our performance, measured not by audience reaction, be it approval and adulation or rejection and ridicule, but by our own true lights--our inner sense of right and wrong, truth and falsehood. While the twelfth house is also invisible to the casual observer, its obscurity is due to the vast and impersonal scope of its inclusiveness, in contrast to the inward and private nature of the sixth house.

A common misconception that beginning students of astrology may have is that nothing much is going on in the houses of a natal chart that have no planets in them. While it is true that there is bound to be plenty of focus on the occupied houses--the Planets are, after all, the verbs of our "life-sentences"--the transits of the outer planets through the cycle of houses in the natal chart guarantees that every lifetime has it's share of attention paid and effort expended in tending to the affairs of every house. Every step is important in the making of a viable seed.

This covers rulerships and Planets and touches peripherally on Signs.


Rulerships
The concept of "rulerships", refers to the "natural" affinities or similarities between the various planetary functions (actions, urges), the signs (attitudes, styles), and the houses (stages of development). For example, Mars and Aries are said to rule the first house, because the emergent phase represented by the first house is consistent with the explosive, energetic, pushy function of Mars and the fiery, forceful dynamic attitude of Aries.

But of course, in a birth chart, the signs and planets never align perfectly with the houses that they rule, so inconsistencies and paradoxes abound in every birth chart, and the challenge of interpretation is to try to understand how these conflicts in symbology relate to the struggles and adjustments that every person has to make in living their life and resolving the contradictions inherent in their unique circumstances of life.

The Actions of the Planets
The ten moving heavenly bodies symbolize ten essential urges, functions, or rays of self that must be activated, exercised and radiated in order to achieve a balanced, harmonious and satisfying expression of the Whole Self within the constraints of space, time and gravity. The planets supply the action words, the verbs, in sentences that describe the purpose and meaning of a person's material life. The house placement of each planet tells us where that function can be expressed most effectively.

The Moon--"I adapt, I respond, I survive"
Rulerships: The Fourth House, The Cancer Attitude.
The Moon symbolizes the primal urge to do whatever it takes to survive, moment-by-moment, The Moon's function is the most instinctive and immediate of any of the planets. No thought precedes the Lunar reaction to the needs of the moment. Of course, instinctive responses to immediate circumstances may not be entirely consistent with our longer-term interests, so the Lunar function must be educated and tempered as we mature.

Mercury--"I explore, I learn, I understand"
Rulerships: The Third and Sixth Houses, The Gemini and Virgo Attitudes.
Mercury represents the urge to understand how things work, how to distinguish cause from effect, and how to use this information for practical purposes. It also represents the function of making connections and establishing communication links. Mercury discovers (Third House) and assimilates (Sixth House) new information.

Venus--"I attract, I receive, I enjoy"
Rulerships: The Second and Seventh Houses, The Taurus and Libra Attitudes.
The attractive function that Venus symbolizes is the ability to draw to ourselves the materials, situations and circumstances that provide the opportunity to fulfill our life's purpose. Venus also represents the ability to enjoy and be satisfied by the material and emotional resources we acquire.

The Sun--"I act, I express, I create"
Rulerships: The Fifth House, The Leo Attitude.
The Sun symbolizes the creative function, the urge to express one's own unique vision. It represents the act of focusing and directing spiritual power (Fire) on a personal scale. It is both the Ego and the Will, in the best sense of these words.

Mars--"I start, I push, I insist"
Rulerships: The First and Eighth Houses, The Aries and Scorpio Attitudes.
Mars represents the ability to make things happen by single-minded application of the force of will. Once the Martian function is brought to bear on a situation, something will happen, whether for better or worse. Force is not always the right tool for the job, but when it is, Mars delivers.

Jupiter--"I aspire, I imagine, I transcend"
Rulerships: The Ninth House, The Sagittarius Attitude.
Jupiter, is the transgressor of boundaries. It's function is to expand, to explore, to experience, to grow, to go beyond the known and conventional, to discover novelty and surprise. Without the active, expansive function of Jupiter, stagnation would ensue. A severely conflicted Jupiter usually connotes frustration, and possibly explosive anger. The house placements and aspects between Jupiter and Saturn are telling in terms of how easy or difficult the process of growth may feel as it is being lived. The two functions are opposites, yet both are essential and must be reconciled and integrated as "the course of a lifetime runs". Neither Jupiter nor Saturn gets to have the last word. Expansion and consolidation phases occur in every cycle of growth, and both are necessary to build a well-balanced, healthy organism, or personality. Every successful driver must learn the proper and timely use of both the accelerator and the brake. Jovian action lubricates social interactions and brings mental and spiritual connections into awareness and conscious use.

Saturn--"I focus, I define, I stabilize"
Rulerships: The Tenth House, The Capricorn Attitude.
Saturn represents the function of limitation--to restrict, to focus, to constrain, to delineate, to define the boundary of identity. In some ways, Saturn is more relevant than the Sun in terms of defining the essential features of our personality. The Sun is our source and center, but Saturn is our circumference, the dividing line between Self and Not-Self. There is much that is optional about how we draw that line, but to leave it un-drawn is not an option. Without it there is no personality, no identity, no Self.

In traditional astrology, Saturn has a bad reputation, and it is undeniably true that as a subjective experience, limitation and constraint is more likely to be experienced as unpleasant than pleasant. In the natal chart, the house occupied by Saturn will probably not be felt to be the happiest or easiest stage of our unfoldment. Nevertheless, delineating the boundaries of the self is an absolutely essential function, and when it is compromised, the personality becomes dysfunctional or, in extreme cases, disintegrates into madness. So, in spite of its bad reputation and sometimes unpleasant operation, it does behoove us to make friends with Saturn, so to speak, and learn to appreciate the essential function that it represents. Saturn is to the personality as the skeleton is to the body.

Uranus--"I awaken, I excite, I revolutionize"
Rulerships: The Eleventh House, The Aquarius Attitude.
Jupiter and Uranus are located on either side of Saturn, and they both are somewhat antithetical to the urge for solid stability that Saturn represents. Whereas Jupiter wants to jump over Saturn's wall, Uranus wants to knock it down, or better yet, blow it up. So far as Uranus is concerned, patience is not a virtue, and stability is a synonym for stagnation. The house position of Uranus shows the area of life where we are destined to revolutionize ourself, to transcend our previous definition of our own identity and take our first steps toward a trans-personal selfhood.

Neptune--"I release, I dissolve, I forgive"
Rulerships: The Twelfth House, The Pisces Attitude.
If the function of Uranus is to awaken and excite, the function of Neptune is to soothe, to comfort, to heal, to forgive, to release and resolve the conflicts and struggles of material life. Neptune and Pisces rule the twilfth house, the completion of the cycle, the distillation of experience, the disolution of unused structures and release of unnecessary resistance. The house position of Neptune in the natal chart indicates the area of life where these tender mercies are most needed to complete the work of the lifetime. The house(s) with Pisces on the cusp, and other natal planets in Pisces are further clues.

Pluto--"I resurrect, I transfigure, I re-form"
Rulerships: The Eighth House, The Scorpio Attitude.
Pluto represents the death, transfiguration, and resurrection of the ego.

It is helpful to bear in mind that over the thousands of years of astrology's development, Saturn was the end of the story. The outer planets were unknown to the ancients. Since the discovery of Uranus in 1781, astrologers have begun to use the trans-Saturnian planets to symbolize the trans-personal dimensions of human experience. Since this historical period is so brief in relation to the length of the cycles represented, it should be no surprise that we still have much to learn.

So, are you still with me? Too much information? Any questions?

There's more, but I don't want to inundate you completely, so tell me what you think so far.

So, are you still with me? Too much information? Any questions?

There's more, but I don't want to inundate you completely, so tell me what you think so far.

Well, it is by far the fullest explanation I have ever seen on the subject of astrology. Correct me if I'm wrong, but (are you saying ?) astrology doesn't directly influence an individual but, rather, it is a kind of framework around which an individual may choose to help guide his life thereby providing an indirect influence - in that respect, not unlike any system of thought that one might choose for the purpose.

If I have that right (I very well may not), it seems like a positive tool for self-examination. I am unclear, however, on why the position of the "planets" has importance based on the moment of the first breath taken.

Well, it is by far the fullest explanation I have ever seen on the subject of astrology. Correct me if I'm wrong, but (are you saying ?) astrology doesn't directly influence an individual but, rather, it is a kind of framework around which an individual may choose to help guide his life thereby providing an indirect influence - in that respect, not unlike any system of thought that one might choose for the purpose.
Yes, it is a "system of thought", though I don't think of it in terms of influence, either direct or indirect. I think of it as a "model", in the scientific sense of the word, that provides the rational mind with distinctions that define the "parts of self" and their relationships to each other and to the outer world.

This conceptual framework is rooted and grounded in the notion of cyclicity as a unifying principle that underlies all processes of growth and change, from plants to persons to civilizations to galaxies. Becoming familiar with this model of personality, social relationships and cycles of change allows the rational mind to participate more directly and consciously than it otherwise could in the process of personality development and growth.

I don't think this participation of the intellect rises to the level of "control", but it does help the mind to be more at ease with the very substantial share of our development that occurs below [edit: and above] the threshold of conscious awareness. Sort of like giving a dog a chew toy so he doesn't tear up the furniture when left alone in the house.


If I have that right (I very well may not), it seems like a positive tool for self-examination. I am unclear, however, on why the position of the "planets" has importance based on the moment of the first breath taken.
Well, the view of Heaven from the place and time of our entry into Earth has importance because we choose to give it importance, and because we make the effort to understand the inner referents of each of the elements contained in the model. Without that choice and that effort on our part, it has no significance at all. That's why I always tell skeptics and debunkers to just walk on by.

Well, the view of Heaven from the place and time of our entry into Earth has importance because we choose to give it importance, and because we make the effort to understand the inner referents of each of the elements contained in the model. Without that choice and that effort on our part, it has no significance at all. That's why I always tell skeptics and debunkers to just walk on by.

If we don't know the time of birth, I assume one can simply choose a time?

While I'm thinking about this (I may have more questions), can you do a little on Tarot cards?

If we don't know the time of birth, I assume one can simply choose a time?
Not knowing the exact time of birth affects mainly the House positions because these are referenced to the horizon line, which changes moment to moment as the Earth turns on its axis. With the exception of the Moon, which moves about twelve degrees per day, none of the other Planets move more than a degree or so in twenty four hours, so the placement of the Planets in the Signs, and their angular relationship to each other (Aspects) isn't affected much by time of day. Nevertheless, house placements are pretty important, so uncertainty about that feature does make chart interpretation more difficult and tentative.

What I usually do is erect at least two or three charts calculated for different times of day, such as sunrise, noon, sunset, or midnight, and then see which seems to be most consistent with the client's personal history in terms of the timing of major events or turning points in their life thus far. Such points are often coincident with transits of the of the outer planets through the houses, and can give clues that at least reduce the range of likely possibilities. But there really is no very good substitute for an accurate birth time.


While I'm thinking about this (I may have more questions), can you do a little on Tarot cards?
Sure. Are you more interested in the symbology reflected in the Tarot cards themselves, i.e. the Major Arcana and the four Suits, or do you want to go further into the issues I touched on earlier about oracles and horary techniques generally?

Sure. Are you more interested in the symbology reflected in the Tarot cards themselves, i.e., the Major Arcana and the four Suits, or do you want to go further into the issues I touched on earlier about oracles and horary techniques generally?

Maybe start at the beginning. Where do they originate? What are they supposed to do?

My only exposure to tarot cards was when a buddy and I were bouncing around what was Baltimore's sleezy saloon district (pre-Inner Harbor) many years ago and we stumbled into a gypsy store front where, for 5 dollars, she told me some things that I forgot almost immediately.

So I am coming from a point of complete ignorance on this subject.

Maybe start at the beginning. Where do they originate?
The consensus view seems to be that they first appeared in northern Italy in the mid-1400's. I don't have any scholarly expertise on the subject, so I googled it and found this site (http://tarotpedia.com/wiki/Tarot_History), which my casual inspection leads me to think is as good a place as any to start exploring a subject about which very little is known for sure, and therefore competing theories and controversies abound.

What are they supposed to do?
Apparently, they were used first in various games, and only later (the late 1700's) started to be used for divination.

I myself have looked for correspondences between the Tarot, Astrology, and Kabbalah, with enough success to be interesting to me, but based on very little more than my own intuition. It's been many years since I gave it any attention, so I don't know how well it would hold up, even for me personally, if I went back and looked at it again.

The consensus view seems to be that they first appeared in northern Italy in the mid-1400's. I don't have any scholarly expertise on the subject, so I googled it and found this site (http://tarotpedia.com/wiki/Tarot_History), which my casual inspection leads me to think is as good a place as any to start exploring a subject about which very little is known for sure, and therefore competing theories and controversies abound.

Apparently, they were used first in various games, and only later (the late 1700's) started to be used for divination.

I myself have looked for correspondences between the Tarot, Astrology, and Kabbalah, with enough success to be interesting to me, but based on very little more than my own intuition. It's been many years since I gave it any attention, so I don't know how well it would hold up, even for me personally, if I went back and looked at it again.

Thanks for your time and effort explaining these things. I know more now than I did.