Life is a mystery. And it keeps much silence. Still, we humans attempt to gain some understanding of our lives by not being silent. We use words that sometimes stand in opposition to each other, words like “ordinary” and “extraordinary.” By doing this, we set up categories and put our beliefs into boxes. The problem with this for those of us who are Free Thinkers (admittedly yet another “box”) is that this process limits further understanding of life’s possible meanings and purposes. How much more interesting to combine categories, blur definitions, erase lines, and flow with the mystery! To experience the fullness of life, beyond categories.
I like what Krishnamurti says:
You must understand the whole of life, not just one little part of it. That is why you must read, that is why you must look at the skies, that is why you must sing and dance, and write poems and suffer and understand, for all that is life.
That is why I call myself a “Mystical Humanist.” By doing so, I give myself permission to explore the mystery of life, to push the boundaries. This allows me as the limited human being that I am, to play with the unknown. I am “mystical” (a word that connects with “mystery”) and humanist (a word that derives from “humus” meaning “dirt”). Mysterious dirt, indeed! A comical expression perhaps! Are we, after all is said about the nobility of the human species, merely the “cosmic joke” that philosophers refer to? At least the phrase may keep us humble, deflating our overly prideful sense of self.
The humanist part comes in because what I am (categorically speaking) is but a human being, with a human being’s experience of life. I am, in essence, quite ordinary. Just a protoplasmic pontificator of punctuated, platitudinous possibilities. A “preacher.” Just some guy behind a box telling you what he thinks. Quite ordinary, you know.
And undoubtedly you can say similar pedestrian things about yourself, using your own descriptive language in reference to what you do for a living, or what you do for a retired existence; and what your opinions are, etc.
And the “mystical” part? Ah, that is where the fun comes in. Some churches say of preachers that “the holy spirit” occasionally descends during the sermon. It is that basic concept I am getting at but expressed in a myriad of ways through time: when an event, a feeling, a thought occurs that seems remarkable, inexplicable; something that chills you to the bone with its unexpectedness, its coincidence, its synchronicity.
Then, for those brief moments, you are bedazzled by light, communicating with spirits and fairies and dead people, stopped in your everyday tracks by bewilderment; pushed to your knees in humble supplication because you have nowhere else to go.
But why do we need to set up markers around what appears to us to be different territories: the land of the humanist and the land of the mystic?
“We don’t” is the answer! It’s arbitrary, set up by those who feel they need to control what is ultimately uncontrollable, i.e., life itself! Why not tear down those fences? Here is where fences do not make good neighbors but limit the fullness of the human experience by announcing that a person must be “either” or must be “or.”
Why not both? Why not both a humanist and a mystic?
Why should any of this concern you? Because your life can be so much richer, or at least less stressful, when you live beyond the boundaries. I have found it so liberating to go beyond categorical assumptions. Being a Mystical Humanist and a Free Thinker certainly allows me this, much to the dismay of some who would just love for me to say such things as I am this, that, or the other. But why shouldn’t I say that I am in all those categories or none of them? That I enjoy being variable, protean, adaptable, and malleable.
Why limit the humanist experience? Life is short, so why cut off its possibilities? Naturally, you must allow for some structure, some generalized understanding of what you must work with. You know, such facts as: you are of the human species and are programmed for only so many years, with only so much energy and talent, and with only so much marketability as a toiler in the field, and only so much appeal as a life partner or as a merely passing fancy for another specimen of the human species!
And yet, think about this basic fact: to be alive in the first place is a miracle! You and I became that one egg (unless you are a twin, triplet, etc.) that crashed into a particular sperm! Think about the odds against us ever being here! Think of the ones who did not make it! And think of how it all came to pass in the first place: arising from the great cosmic slime (or whatever it was). The combination of events and elements producing the first semblance of life that was to become humanity.
Mystery! Why deny it? So much better to combine the known and the unknown; the possible and the seemingly impossible; the reality and the illusion. For what, after all, is life but a kaleidoscopic dance of multi-colored glass that is ever changing, ever wondrous, ever mysterious? For a moment, then, let us consider this kaleidoscope called “life” and how we might come to appreciate it more fully.
Truly, to realize that the ordinary (that which we have around us every day) is part of the very mystery and magic of things seen and unseen, we need perspective. We require removal from our narrow confines of chair and room. We need to fly out to the edge of the universe and exclaim: “How extraordinary!”
We need to see ourselves not as ourselves but as part of the larger picture. Unique, yes, but also connected, part of the grander scheme of things. According to some thinkers: part of the larger Self.
It seems to me that life wouldn’t seem so ordinary if each of us could have our own spaceship to climb into and fly far away from the pull of earth’s gravity. Then we’d gain perspective on this take-it-for-granted ball of ever-confounding reality we call “earth,” this blue planet spinning in dark space.
There we’d be, looking down on all our concerns, rather than being part of them. We’d see how one person or one event impacts another. We’d witness this interlinking effect: our own proactive efforts in doing something, anything to improve the world’s lot; or our attitude in not doing anything because we feel we can’t make a difference. We’d see nature: the chain of sensate existence joined together in a common struggle for survival in a world that seeks at times to rent it asunder by pollutants, chainsaws, and instruments of torture; we’d hear the chorus of screams coming from deforested land, displaced animals, oil-soaked seas, homeless people, and abandoned children. Yet, we’d witness the glory and the triumph, too: the sounds of hope coming from those who refuse to be victimized. We’d witness good and loving people from one corner of our spinning planet to another who are living in peace. This interconnected web is truly the image of ordinary, extraordinary magic. Our spaceship perspective has us asking in wonderment: “How did it come to be?” We are humbled by the mystery! And in our humbled state, let us give thanks to life!
NOTE: Don Beaudreau is a member of the Ajijic Writers Group and edits the Lakeside Living section of this magazine. He is working on his 12th book, a novel set in Cape Cod, MA.
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