The shimmering glory of the world
Under the influence of active bipolar disorder—manic-depressive illness, if you prefer—I felt the presence of the Divine nearly all the time. Even when I was terribly depressed and felt the impossibility of connecting with other human beings, there was some kind of numina, some kind of creative Oversoul to which I was still tethered. And when I wasn’t depressed, the world sparkled with divinity. Sparkled.
My girlfriend at the time asked me, “How do you pray?” and I said, “You just pray.”
My friend asked me, “How do you aspect?” and I said, “You just close your eyes and fall backwards into the Divine.”
These were not helpful answers. But they were my answers, direct descriptions of my experience.
They described the ease with which I could climb into the lap of the Goddess. These unhelpful, pedagogically terrible statements were expressions of love, security, faith beyond articulation, the closesness of the Divine I lived with every day.
They were, in fact, statements of “direct experience of transcending mystery.”
Skill, not delusion
Nota bene: My experiences of aspecting before diagnosis were not delusions or hallucinations. They were and continue to be part of the complex matrix of religious experience, certainly. One can discuss of what that matrix consists, but these experiences were not hallucinations or delusions.
First of all, aspecting does not come upon me unawares. It does not intrude upon my thinking. Second, Aspecting is an art and skill that is almost always done in a religious and cultural context. It has safeguards, including the skill and attention of others in the community.
Third, the experiences that aspecting brings on are available to those who are neurotypical, as well as to those, like me, who are in recovery from mental illness.
One need not be “barking-mad-crazy” to invite the powers of the Mighty Dead, the Shining Ones, or other Great Others into oneself. In fact, some of the greatest aspectors I know are also some of the most stable.
Nonetheless, my experience of, aspecting changed once I began to be consistently mentally well.
It changed. And it has been changed for years now.
The world no longer consistently sparkles with the joyful, terrifying, juicy force of Divine creativity. Now I engage a daily practice of song, prayer, writing, and action to ask to be let into the Courts of Glory; it is not simply walking up to the door, and being welcomed in.
Now it is effort.
Now it is work.
Now is choosing to walk to the Light, step by conscious step, not to be enveloped, infused, nearly overwhelmed with it at any moment.
Now it is longer meditation beforehand and deeper, more conscious prayer that helps me open my own doors, the doors of my heart and mind, whereas before they stood open on their own.
I miss those open spaces.
I do.
I miss the glittering beauty of the world reflecting in my eyes. The shining heart of everyone I meet. The fascination with creation—human and otherwise.
I miss simply falling backwards into the loving arms of the Goddess, meeting the God eye-to-eye.
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