Yesterday marked the thirty-year anniversary of my first experience of nondual consciousness, which occurred at a Lutheran Youth Weekend at Massanetta Springs in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. If you’re interested in the story, check out chapter one of The Aspiring Mystic — that’s where I tell the tale.
And the day before yesterday, Sunday, I submitted my letter of intent to enter the novitiate of the Lay Cistercians of Our Lady of the Holy Spirit. If I’m accepted, I’ll be received as a novice on Palm Sunday — which this year happens to fall on April 1. This old fool for Christ’s sake considers that a serendipitous date indeed.
It seems appropriate enough to link the insecure Lutheran teenager who without wanting it or expecting it was suddenly ushered into the presence of Divine love and bliss, with who I am today — still none too confident, now a middle-aged Catholic, interested in how the wisdom of Christian mysticism ties in with the integral vision of other visionaries, from the ancient (Plotinus) to the postmodern (Ken Wilber).
All this is a fancy way of saying that it is amazing how the unplanned events of one night three decades ago continues to make such an impact on my life today — and tomorrow.