Wednesday, October 05, 2011

Mystical writing


Reality parts before the mystic. In the instant of truth, no characteristic asserts itself more strongly than the artificiality of the experience. For if this experience reveals anything worth while to the mystic, it requires a sense of its own making in order to distinguish itself from the mundane. While the former testifies to the particular aspects of its own made-ness (whether it be pieced together by God or generated by the mystic himself), the latter does not contain any sense of sequence; only accident. The former explains why mystic writers spend so much attention on elaborate systems of signs and letters; these are divine sequences stripped down to the particles of signification. To bow down before an order that has no conceivable truth outside that which the Creator holds secret – this is the first task of the mystic. The second is to do the impossible work of translation; he shares the burden of proof with God. Hallaj differentiates the man who can tell of his experience, with one who is consumed by it. He wrote his book on burning parchment to reveal the difference between the duration of fire and the duration of God. He said to his companions: "Look not to me, but to fire; this body is the shadow of what glows & is destroyed there."

The Lord began creation, then repeated it.