Page:Weaving Colorful Threads.pdf/6

 Certain extraordinary features may accompany the mystical state, particularly at the beginning of the mystical journey. These epiphenomena, such as trance, ecstasy, visions, locutions, et cetera, reported by mystics across diverse traditions, are acknowledged, but seen as passing facets of mysticism, which should not be sought after for their own sake. Some of these experiences are often due to the physical repercussions of the infusion of contemplation, and generally cease once the human organism has been purified and strengthened. Furthermore, even mystics who experience extraordinary phenomena have argued that ‘such things were secondary to the deep inner consciousness and love of God that could not be seen but was manifested in a more loving life’ (McGinn 2012:35–36).

Relativisation of mystical epiphenomena, with concomitant detachment from spiritual gifts and renunciation of psychic powers is a sound test of authentic mysticism. Therefore:


 * While accounts of visions of God and the heavenly world, descriptions of ecstatic states, even stories about paranormal gifts, are part of the mystical tradition, they are peripheral rather than central. This is why many mystics insist that God can and should be found in ordinary, everyday consciousness as an awareness of the divine depth in all things. (McGinn 2012:35)

Appreciation of mysticism and its value can be found by many who do not report any notable experience themselves: The well-known 20th century psychologist and philosopher, William James ([1902] 1982), is worth quoting here:


 * I have no living sense of commerce with a God. I envy those who have, for I know that the addition of such a sense would help me greatly. The Divine, for my active life, is limited to impersonal and abstract concepts, which, as ideals, interest and determine me, but do so but faintly in comparison what a feeling of God might effect, if I had one. Yet, there is something in me which makes response when I hear utterances from that quarter made by others. I recognise the deeper voice […] Call this, if you like, my mystical germ. (p. xxiv)

Roy (2003:xxi), whilst acknowledging diverse levels of consciousness, particularly in the light of recent neurotheological studies, nevertheless prefers to see mystical consciousness as ‘a permanent state, a basic disposition, a stable mood [… which] requires cultivation, that is, moral asceticism as well as the practice of meditation’. Closely allied to the foregoing is the field of consciousness studies, and its links with the mystical, inter alia, the relationship of psychiatry and mysticism. A greater understanding of the nature of mysticism on the part of both the therapist and the client effects greater appreciation of its value for patient care; for example, both psychosis and mystical experience can lead to perceptual changes; however, the effects differ. Greater integration is generally a result of the latter; whilst in psychosis, increasing fragmentation and confusion are experienced. A more accurate appraisal of the mystical experience enables health professionals better understand this difference. Neuropsychiatric research of this nature validates the benefits of mysticism from a neurological perspective (Drazenovich & Kourie 2009:2, 7).

D’Aquili and Newberg (1999:14) suggest that ‘mystical experiences are generally regarded as the mechanism by which a human being can enter into the realm of God or Ultimate Reality, depending on the particular religion’. Within a neurophysiological investigation, various altered states of consciousness are analysed, in order to analyse the ‘possible neurophysiological mechanisms’ underpinning the mystical states (D’Aquili & Newberg 1999:110). Focusing on the state of ‘absolute unitary being’ (AUB), which is ‘the state in which the subject loses all awareness of discrete limited being and of the passage of time, and even experiences an obliteration of the self-other dichotomy’, both passive and active approaches are investigated (D’Aquili & Newberg 1999:119–110). The passive approach involves ‘simply trying to clear one’s mind of all thoughts’ whereas the active approach focuses on an object, be it ‘an image, a figure, a person, a sound or a word’ (D’Aquili & Newberg 1999:110). Analysis of brain activity during such meditative states is instrumental in the effort to understand or at least describe mystical experiences from a neurophysiological perspective.

Further analysis of this scientific research is outside the ambit of the present discussion; suffice it to say that it opens the door to fascinating explorations in the field of neurotheology, and deserves ongoing reflection. It is worth noting certain caveats regarding this research, given by the authors themselves:


 * The reader should be cautioned against using this model in too reductionist a way. Even if subsequent testing with PET scanning and similar procedures should support the model […] it still raises significant neuroepistemological problems. To maintain that the reality of people’s ‘objective’ experience of God is reducible to neurochemical flux, and nothing more, may be equivalent to maintaining that their experience of the ‘objective’ reality of the sun, the earth, the air they breathe is reducible to neurochemical flux. (D’Aquili & Newberg 1999:120)