The angels argue who will fall
first, and they choose you.
You are quick to laugh it off,
“O Angels, must I fall. Can you not arrange a ride? With all the power God holds, can he not find someone, who with me, could die?”
Amongst the extroverted residue
I see translucent trails of you.
I see you cry by the bins of Abraham’s bakery
you are just a sphere of blue
Without blowing my cover from behind the reed flute
I somehow wish to tell you
for years I’ve watched you grow into
a light above the architectural dispute,
and since a child golden cobbles heat up as you walk beside them on your way to Gabriel’s honey pool,
I see you between God and his first Repute
and since a young age you have had your eyes wishing to dilate,
cocking your head between God and Adam
wishing you could have a love as great.
For heavenly years I have tried to build up the verses to tell you that;
I have fallen in love with watching you and
I have come to always
see you behind me, ahead of myself
I see you above me, I lower myself
my only wish is for you to be brave enough to grow form
so I may hold you and you may have, just as you wished, a love to fall for.
Do you churn inside
having seen him bite his sober cries
and now she’s tasting the leaked mercury escaping his mind,
having seen her love stifled silences
and now he’s tracing the constellation from her back into the skies
She had once upon a time
only sang the world’s lullaby
and now she only sings her lover’s reprise,
and he only ever felt easy howling into the night
but now he chases the blinding white
and since the two were made to unite
you burn inside
knowing they love being lost in Her Mother’s unplanned trials
more than being Clockwork’s only child.
Tell me does it hurt inside
seeing the lovers escape from
the watchful eyes of the world
to run into the wild.
We don’t know where we’re going. We’re by a canal and we innately understand that the city lights won’t let our gravity be defied. We plaster our sight across every other line, across every other line, across every other line.
– We need green.
We catch eyes.
I inwardly apologise if I’ve done this prematurely. Face on; I turn to face you. On the hill, the sky meanders until it is the only thing beside you. There’s a blur of scintillating taxi signs and 5pm fireflies behind you. I can see the line of your profile. You breathe deep and the lines of your chest become obtuse. You breathe in the ripples of the sky. The lines of your silhouette reach its peak and the city lights seep behind it. Right there, in front of my eyes, you breathed in deep; and I witnessed you taking away the disquiet.
– We need blue. We we want each others’ truths.
We’ve waited months for the night to fall and now it is ours. Starting to feel more at ease we talk without taking a breath. We know that with each anecdote that passes by the sundials amends its time. It gift us with more night to watch the stars fight with sonar lights. We’re walking side by side holding onto our own shivers; but we’re not yet close enough. I want you to know I can take away the winter breeze and I need you to know I have never spoken with such wide-eyed devotion about the mundane. I tell you things I’ve never known.
– We need red.
Walking further along the canal we come across a damp dock to rest our backs on. We need to jump over fences to get to it. We came this far. We jump. To make sure we know the night is real we chose a ribbed dock to lay on. Side by side, we catch planes while I dip my feet into the water. You tell me you should never really have your chest uncovered. I take off my coat and cover us both. I dip my head underneath and you follow suit. For that moment we didn’t need the stars. For the first time, under my winter coat, I felt the density of your spectre. The sky becomes impatient and warns us the night is coming to an end. It begins to rain. We don’t want to leave but the rain gets heavier. We run towards a bridge, shivering and wet. I bury myself in your chest and without knowing we protect each other from the heavy rain.The sky is still not happy. Lightning begins to flash and we decide to take shelter under some stairs. Arching our backs slightly, we find ourselves away from the city and finally from the sky. While we wait for the rain to stop falling, you quieten all the noise as we kiss for the first time. The lightening stops and the rain fades. We wait for the noise to come back but the only thing that can be heard is a sheet of film sliced between dusk and dawn melting away.
The discussion on drugs and its effects is extensive. However, there is a line within that discussion which focuses on certain drugs and whether they induce spiritual effects. In order to start on such a topic it is of upmost importance to discuss and set the basis of the discussion; that being the methodology and the terms which will be used. The definition for ‘mysticism’ and ‘mystical experience’ is riddled with multiplicities and has been a colourful tug of war between scholars and mystics themselves. Focusing on the question, the definition of a ‘mystical experience’ is somewhat much more difficult to define as it is a personal esoteric experience. If we were to personify a mystical experience it would be an introvert who lives within themselves and stutters when being made to make small talk. A mystical experience is not just silent or vague like an introvert would be accused of. Inside there is substance, a science and a serious thinker. For the sake of this misunderstanding, I aim to clearly lay out what my definitions are and how I intend to use them against the discussion of the effect of drugs.
Continue reading “Can the effect of drugs be described as a mystical experience?”
The reason why this question is of great importance to the study of mysticism in the great traditions is because of the heavy bass which is carried through the song of mysticism: the experiential approach. The experiential approach is marked by most mystics to be the approach that all, including interpreters of texts, should seek out. Exegesis and hermeneutics can be seen as a barrier to experiencing the ‘Real’, however without it mystics would be without wisdom. In order to discuss this question an epistemological and a less reductionist approach will be brought to light. In regards to exegesis and hermeneutics I will be looking at the importance of interpreting the texts of mystical experiences itself and then mystical texts; namely the Torah. Intellectually, the interpreters of mysticism are usually interpreters of the inclusive mystical experience, and the importance of this, or the exaggeration of the importance, will be discussed. The mystics themselves speak of leaving knowledge behind and giving it up in order to experience what has seeped through the holy texts. However, the reason this question will not be a one sided discussion is that in the Hebrew traditions, the esoteric interpretation of the holy texts embodies mysticism and without exegesis, hermeneutics and the epistemological view of the texts the knowledge to ascertain the mystical would not be found. It could be argued that without the exegesis of such texts, the mystical experiences would not be interpreted as ‘mystical’.
Continue reading “Discuss the importance and reliability of exegesis and hermeneutics in the studies of mysticism.”
I’ve just uploaded another essay onto Scribd. This essay is just a rough discussion on whether the effect of drugs can be described as a mystical experience. I talk about what a mystical experience is and look into examples of drugs being taken to induce such experiences in the Shamanic traditions. Feel free to click on the link below to check it out 🙂