you know? Some time ago I was a bit bored and disappointed in my way of being and my usual behavior and I thought that if I became a mystical person, maybe it would help me get out of that existential inertia, that experiential pragmatism that I have been experiencing for years. and of which, frankly, I felt quite tired. I believed that in this more secluded and spiritual way I could thus give another meaning to my life, a new and more perfect direction in many ethical aspects of it.
I must confess that I had heard of mysticism but like most people, on the surface, I thought that a mystical person was someone somewhat contemplative, giving up certain “noisy” aspects of life, a kind of romantic mixed with bucolic and melancholic, something like a Margarita cocktail with sedative ingredients shaken in just the right amount before serving.
So I started to find out more about the subject and I found that mysticism is something very serious and deep, complicated, extremely difficult to achieve and not suitable for everyone. Quite the contrary, it turned out that it had leading actors of the stature of Saint Paul, Saint Ambrose, Saint Isidore of Seville, Joan of Arc, Saint Teresa of Ávila, or the closest and now Saint Teresa of Calcutta.
That mystics are people who have had or aspire to have soul contact with divinity. That mystics have visions, apparitions, hear extraordinary things and live in a permanent state of spirituality. That there is even a Mysticosophy or a path of initiation with two possible paths destined to awaken consciousness as in the case of the Hindus.
You can imagine my disappointment when I found out about it, I was willing to make some mundane concessions like not drinking a beer every couple of months, or not giving myself a hearty stew that would leave me knocked out for hours, to meditate a little more deeply, things like that.
But never to become a Christian saint of those who wear a crown on his head, hands in a prayer position and a long robe that covers his feet, or an Indian saint of those who are always bare bones, naked from the navel up, with a scant loincloth below, with a beard to the waist and who never eat even a sad onion soup without salt.
Once, taking pity on the animals, I became a strict vegan, abandoning meat and fish and shortly after, in the transition period between the carnal and vegetable state, I received all kinds of comments from my friends. Are you sick? You look paler! What’s the matter, do you seem weak? Are you suffering from anemia? One even told me: check yourself, to see if you are going to have AIDS.
So between this bombardment of warnings and the fact that veganism did not fully convince my palate and stomach, I returned to my natural state of being an omnivore despite my feelings of pity for cows, chickens and other two- or four-legged creatures, groceries.
With mysticism, the truth scared me, I did not see myself having messages with angels or divine beings talking to me, or like Saint Paul to whom a Macedonian appeared saying “Come to Macedonia to help us”. Just thinking about it makes my skin pimple and I get little bumps all over my body. I am an ordinary person, an ordinary people, as the gringos say, with no other aspirations than to be a little better by improving myself a little from time to time.
So, feeling very sorry, I moved away from mysticism, or rather, I ran away from it because I didn’t even get to step on its doors very far. Now I am looking for other methods of rest and spiritual improvement, I have found several possible ones and there is one of them that after trying it a few times has convinced me completely, it is Hamacism, that is, resting several hours a day in a sweet Creole hammock with a few cold ones and some appetizers on the side, slices of ham, chorizo, loin, cheese, olives, anchovies, onions, gherkins and others like that.
I may not reach the higher mystical state, but I do enter a state of beatific torpor that must be close to it and may even exceed it by far. I invite you to try it and then let me know.