It suddenly occurred to me today why I’m not a mystic, and why I don’t even want to be one. I don’t want to close my eyes to everything this world has to offer and retreat to some deep meditative practice, concentrating on finding the transcendent Truth deep within myself.
I am a thinking, sensing, living human being, and I find this world totally fascinating, exhilarating, energizing. Yes, I also find it infuriating, exhausting, puzzling.
But I was born into this world with the body that I have, the needs and capacities that I have, and I have no desire whatsoever not to be what I am, and to use my abilities to the full.
No, I don’t want to drown in acquiring things, and I certainly do not want to be any kind of celebrity. Too many things, too much celebrity only get in the way.
But I love this world and I want to drink it in in every possible way. I love trying to solve problems. I love discussions about the meaning of life, I love people who come up with new inventions, I love beautiful music. I love those small acts of kindness or understanding one sees in ordinary exchanges in places as prosaic as the grocery store.
No I’m not a mystic.
And I don’t even ever want to be one.