Author: Guy Mystic

Guy Mystic- Episode 9

I perceive everything as fundamentally connected, not just conceptually, but viscerally, experientially connected, and it transformed my sense of self. The boundaries between “me” and “everything else” have started to dissolve, revealing a more complex and beautiful reality.

I see now that my choices are not isolated events. The casual interaction with a barista, the email I sent with a slightly impatient tone, the moment I stopped to help someone struggling with their grocery bags, these create reverberations that extend far beyond my immediate experience.

This isn’t abstract philosophy to me. My lived reality informs my metaphysical framework as I more mindfully move through the world.

When I cause harm, whether intentionally or not, I’m tearing a hole in the delicate fabric that connects us all. Call it karma or any other consequential term, these events have the potential to create disharmony in ways I might never fully comprehend. But rather than be damned for eternity for these lapses, there is always space for redemption.

And here’s the beautiful part: every act of kindness, every moment of genuine empathy, works to mend those tears. When I choose compassion over judgment, patience over irritation, understanding over dismissal, I’m repairing the cosmic tapestry, restoring harmony.

Reducing suffering, then, isn’t just a noble ideal or a philosophical position, it’s practical maintenance work. It’s ensuring the system runs smoothly, preventing unnecessary breakdowns and contributing to the opportunity for a better journey.

I’ve come to see that empathy and compassion aren’t just warm, fuzzy feelings that make me feel good. They’re essential tools, as tangible and necessary as wrenches and screwdrivers, for fixing what’s broken and building something better.

Every time I pause to truly feel another’s pain, every time I respond with authentic compassion rather than indifference, I’m actively participating in consciousness. I’m adding resonance to the field of intention.

Some may say it’s grandiose, but I’m attempting to live in a way, to breathe, think, and act as though I’m an integral part of the cosmic story. We all are. Each as a unique expression of creation, each of us has a special contribution to make. From a theological perspective, it’s the ongoing process of incarnation.

It’s both a responsibility and a privilege. There’s always more to learn, more to understand, more ways to contribute, more opportunities to expand our relationships. And although it’s a seductive aspiration, perfection is not possible and never achieved.

And that’s the beauty of it. This journey isn’t meant to be completed. It’s a continuous, ongoing adventure. Exploring the mysteries of existence. Experiencing, moment by moment, in the flow of the divine becoming of the universe.

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Guy Mystic- Episode 8

So, by weaving together various mystical traditions, the ideas of Alfred North Whitehead and Teilhard de Chardin, two thinkers I first encountered while diving into Integral theory, have come to the forefront in the past few years.

Whitehead’s Process philosophy really speaks to me these days. Its emphasis on God as an active participant in our lives and that we are co-creators in this wild, beautiful dance of existence makes sense of my experience. It’s the most effective metaphysics to deal with theodicy that I’ve encountered.

This perspective shifts my thinking in ways that just make sense. God is not dictating our lives or setting up some predetermined path. Instead, it is experiencing life alongside us, moment by moment.

This is an empowering way of approaching experiences. When I’m fully present and tuned into my creative impulse, I’m not just going through the motions—I’m helping to bring new possibilities into being. Each choice becomes an opportunity to participate across the web of existence we’re all part of.

As I adopt this way of experiencing, I feel a shift—like the universe itself is breathing with me. Not directing me toward a specific choice, but rather creating a space where I can sense the possibilities more clearly. Reality isn’t just static objects but events and experiences—moments of becoming. Each moment is influenced by what came before but not completely determined by it. There’s room for novelty, for creation, for something to emerge.

Teilhard de Chardin adds another layer to this. He saw consciousness as the universe’s deepening awareness of itself, a movement toward what he called the Omega Point, a kind of ultimate complexity and unity.

I find this idea incredibly hopeful. It suggests that my own journey toward greater awareness isn’t separate from the universe’s journey. When I practice presence and compassion, when I create from that deep well of intuition—I’m participating in this process.

This approach affects how I move through my day. When I am mindful I ask better questions: “What wants to emerge in this situation?” “How can I create a space for insight?” “Are there synchronicities with potential glimpses of that co-creative process at work?”

Even challenging interactions can shift. I try to remember that the divine is present in the difficult moments too—not solving the problem for us, but experiencing it with us, offering possibilities for healing and growth if I can stay present enough to perceive them.

It’s not all happy times of course. If we’re co-creating reality, that means we are responsible for our contributions. When I’m reactive, fearful, or closed off, I’m still participating in creation—just not in a way that may increase flourishing.

I have to face some uncomfortable truths about the realities I’ve helped create in my relationships. When my lack of presence leads to missed opportunities or unnecessary suffering. The good news is that each moment offers a fresh start.

The invitation is simple but transformative: Be present. Pay attention. Recognize the sacred creative force that moves within and around all of us.

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Guy Mystic- Episode 7

Okay, so, after countless hours of research, delving into ancient texts and modern philosophies, and countless hours of meditation, seeking inner wisdom and clarity, something finally started to click. There was a profound realization: all these diverse spiritual and philosophical traditions, all these seemingly disparate paths to enlightenment, they’re essentially all pointing towards the same fundamental truth, commonly referred to as perennialism.

When you think about the myriad spiritual and religious traditions that have flourished throughout human history, it’s easy to get caught up in the differences. You’ve got the Buddhists, with their emphasis on mindfulness and compassion, the Christians, with their belief in a direct connection to God through prayer and sacrament, the mystics, who seek to transcend the boundaries of the self through altered states of consciousness.

Each tradition has its own unique language, its own set of rituals and practices, its own way of understanding the divine and the human soul. It’s easy to see how these differences could lead to conflict, and indeed, they often have. But if we take a step back and look at the bigger picture, we start to notice the human need to create meaning.

It’s a sense of awe and wonder at the mystery of existence, a feeling of connection to something larger than ourselves, a yearning for transcendence. Whether it’s called God, Brahman, the Tao, or by some other name, this experience of the sacred seems to be a universal human phenomenon. It’s expressed in different ways, to be sure, but the underlying reality seems to be the same.

This isn’t to say that all religions are the same, or that they’re all equally valid. Each tradition has its own unique insights to offer, and it’s important to respect those differences. When we’re able to look beyond the surface differences and connect with the shared experience of the sacred, we open ourselves up to the possibility of understanding and respect, even across the boundaries of tradition and belief.

And they’ve all got tools, right? Ancient consciousness technologies, if you will. Meditation, prayer, chanting, drumming, dance, fasting, vision quests, sweat lodges, plant medicine ceremonies, and countless other practices developed across cultures and throughout history. They’re all ways to get past the noise in our heads – the chatter of the ego, the anxieties and worries, the endless to-do lists – and connect with something deeper.

These ancient practices are not just relics of the past; they are powerful tools for navigating the complexities of modern life. In a world that is increasingly fragmented and disconnected, they offer a way to find meaning, purpose, and belonging. They remind us we are part of something much larger than ourselves.

And that’s when a powerful realization struck me. I didn’t need to choose a single path but could forge my own? I had grown up immersed in the teachings of Christianity, it was my native spiritual language. But over time, I had also developed a deep appreciation for the profound wisdom and serenity of other traditions.

I began to explore Christianity through a mystical lens that unveiled hidden depths and profound truths. It was a path that transcended dogma and embraced the direct experience of the divine.

When you view Jesus in this light, it’s like encountering him anew. He wasn’t merely a benevolent figure sharing parables. He was a radical, a revolutionary, associating with the marginalized and challenging the authority figures. His ministry was centered around disrupting the status quo and demonstrating an alternative way of life.

Jesus’ teachings and actions were perceived as a threat to the established religious and political order. He challenged the hypocrisy of the Pharisees and scribes, questioned the rigid interpretations of the law, and advocated for compassion and justice for all, especially the poor and oppressed. His message of love, forgiveness, and radical inclusion was a stark contrast to the prevailing social norms and values.

By choosing to associate with those considered “unclean” or “sinful” by society, Jesus challenged the prevailing social hierarchy and demonstrated that God’s love and grace were available to all, regardless of their social status or past mistakes. He dined with tax collectors and sinners, healed the sick and demon-possessed, and welcomed women and children into his circle.

The beautiful thing about spirituality is that the core message often transcends religious boundaries. When you truly delve into the essence of different faiths, you find striking similarities in their values. Take, for instance, the Bodhisattva vow in Buddhism. At its heart, it’s a commitment to alleviating suffering and fostering compassion within communities. It’s about recognizing the interconnectedness of all beings and extending a helping hand to those in need.

When you think about it, this same spirit of compassion and community can be found in countless other spiritual traditions. Whether it’s the Christian emphasis on loving thy neighbor, the Jewish concept of Tikkun Olam (repairing the world), or the Islamic principle of Zakat (charitable giving), the underlying message is the same: we are all in relationship, and we have a responsibility to care for one another.

It’s a reminder that despite the differences in language and ritual, the fundamental values of love, compassion, and community are universal. They transcend religious dogma and speak to the shared human experience. It’s in these shared values that we find common ground and build bridges of understanding across different faiths and cultures.

The teachings aren’t merely intellectual concepts; they offer practical pathways to experience this divine reality directly. Jesus emphasized the transformative power of love, forgiveness, and compassion, while the Buddha advocated mindfulness, meditation, and ethical living. Both encouraged their followers to look within, to quiet the noise of the external world, and to awaken to the divine presence that resides at the core of their being.

So, that’s where I find myself. I’m actively working towards integrating the most valuable aspects, striving to cultivate a life that is both profoundly connected and marked by compassion. It’s an ongoing process, a continuous evolution, but it feels inherently correct. And to be honest, although I’ve been on this journey for a couple of decades, it feels as though this grand adventure is only just beginning to unfold.

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Guy Mystic- Episode 6

Spiritual awakenings are major life-changing experiences, and they usually mean a big new chapter is starting. In my case, after incorporating Integral Theory, my awakening led me to make a dive deep into the world of other spiritual traditions. I went with a universalist approach, recognizing the apparent shared truths in different spiritual and philosophical traditions.

This open-minded approach led me to check out various spiritual practices and teachings, appreciating the wisdom and insights that each one offered. While my spiritual journey stayed open and inclusive, Buddhism gradually became a major focus. Our family began to study Buddhist philosophy and practices more seriously, not just as an intellectual thing but also as a way to build a spiritual foundation for our kids. We attended meditation sessions and Dharma talks at our local Zen center. It’s important to note that our goal wasn’t to force a specific belief system on our children but rather to ground them a framework for understanding spirituality while encouraging them to explore and find their own unique spiritual paths.

Through Buddhism, I found powerful, ancient consciousness technologies—practical methods developed over thousands of years to cultivate inner knowing and compassion. These practices are designed to help people stabilize their minds, navigate the world with greater ease and composure, and interact with life from a compassionate perspective. By using these techniques, I aimed to develop better self-awareness, emotional regulation, and a deeper sense of connection.

But my spiritual journey wasn’t restricted to Buddhism. My curiosity led me to explore other esoteric traditions, like Kabbalah, Taoism, Agnosticism, and Gnosticism, along with different philosophies like Neoplatonism, Stoicism, panpsychism, and process thought. Each one offered unique perspectives and practices that enriched my understanding of reality. Understanding that each emerged from a particular context that helped people make sense of their reality.

My ongoing philosophical and spiritual exploration reminds me that this path isn’t a destination, it’s an ongoing process of learning, integration, and discovery. The wisdom and insights found in various spiritual traditions helped me appreciate the deep relationships among all beings and the unique experiences we each have as we navigate the complexities of life.

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Guy Mystic- Episode 5

Back in 1997, I stumbled upon Ken Wilber’s Integral Theory, and honestly, it completely reshaped how I saw the world. Before that, as you know from Episode 4, I’d gone through a really profound spiritual awakening. I was having these mystical experiences that, while incredible, also left me feeling a bit lost and disoriented. My religious background just hadn’t given me the framework to really understand what was going on. Integral Theory, though, was a game-changer. It offered this way to connect the dots between science and spirituality, giving me a coherent way to make sense of things.

Adopting an integral perspective gave me permission to look beyond just one way of seeing things and start weaving together ideas from different religions, developmental psychology, philosophy – you name it.

One of the aspects of Wilber’s work is his panentheistic worldview. Drawing from process philosophy, it suggests that the divine isn’t just out there somewhere, but it’s actually woven into the very fabric of reality. It highlights how interconnected everything is and suggests that you can find a sense of the sacred in everything, from the vastness of the cosmos to the smallest details of the natural world.

Wilber also offers this really interesting way of experiencing God – through first, second, and third-person perspectives. By embracing this kind of multifaceted approach, we can really foster a more inclusive and holistic spirituality that honors the incredible diversity of human experience.

Integral Theory also gave me a structured way to understand consciousness. It breaks it down into the gross, subtle, and causal realms. These categories actually lined up with the different states I’d encountered during my mystical experiences, but before, I had no real language to describe them. Through the practices associated with Integral Theory, I actually learned how to intentionally navigate and explore these states with more awareness and control.

Think of the gross realm as our everyday waking consciousness, where we’re mostly focused on the physical world and our senses. The subtle realm, on the other hand, goes beyond our physical senses and delves into deeper levels of awareness, often linked to dreams, visions, and altered states. And then there’s the causal realm, which is seen as the source of all creation, a state of pure consciousness beyond the usual subject-object divide.

Wilber’s model, drawn from many other works, also includes developmental levels, which describe stages of growth in our consciousness and values. These levels range from being very self-centered to more focused on our group, then the world, and ultimately to an integral perspective that includes and transcends all the earlier stages. Understanding these levels was super helpful for making sense of why people have such different viewpoints and why conflicts arise. Someone at an earlier stage might just see the world in a fundamentally different way than someone at a later stage. It really offers insights into personal growth, how cultures evolve, and the dynamics of social change.

Drawing on Jung’s work, Wilber also takes on the shadow, which is tied to these developmental levels. He suggests that as we move through these stages, the parts of ourselves that we don’t integrate or accept get pushed into our shadow. The way this shadow shows up can actually be different depending on the developmental level someone is operating from. For instance, at a very egocentric level, the shadow might involve basic aggression, while at a more group-focused level, it might manifest as prejudice. If we don’t address these shadow aspects, it can actually hinder our growth and even lead to psychological issues.

For me, Integral Theory provided a framework that could hold both my intellectual curiosity and my deeply personal spiritual experiences. It validated my academic background while also honoring the profound nature of my spiritual journey. By bringing these seemingly separate parts of myself together, it transformed my spiritual path from something that felt random and isolated into a much more cohesive and meaningful journey.

I found myself continuing to move away from constantly searching for concrete answers and more towards just being present with my experiences, observing without feeling the need to over analyze everything. This shift in perspective allowed me to engage with my spiritual journey in a much more open and receptive way, embracing the uncertainty and ambiguity that often comes with it.

For almost a decade, Integral Theory served as a lens that deepened my understanding and appreciation of my spiritual journey and its wider context. It didn’t detach me from my experiences; it actually allowed me to engage with them more intentionally and with more purpose. It was a vital stepping stone for me, providing me with valuable tools and knowledge to navigate what was ahead. I gained a much deeper sense of how interconnected everything is and the multifaceted nature of reality. It equipped me with the resources to cultivate a more holistic and balanced approach to my spiritual growth.

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Guy Mystic- Episode 4

So there I was, fresh out of college with my shiny new B.A. in Biblical Studies, thinking I had it all figured out. Man, was I wrong. Instead of clarity, I got thrown into what mystics call “the dark night of the soul.”

This wasn’t just a bad week or a spiritual funk. This was years of questioning everything I thought I knew about God, faith, and myself. It’s funny how education can sometimes lead to more questions than answers.

The catalyst was Philip Yancey’s book “Disappointment with God.” Not your typical progressive read. Yet, the title spoke to me – finally someone acknowledging that sometimes our relationship with God isn’t all sunshine and rainbows! Maybe he could solve my problem with theodicy, so I thought.

The book presents God in the three persons of the Trinity. It was when I got to the section about the Holy Spirit when something just… happened. I don’t know how else to describe it. It was like a light switch flipped in my spirit. Later I’d learn terms like “spiritual awakening” or “satori” to describe it, but in that moment, it was just real.

This question kept bubbling up inside me: “If God is in me, why do I need all these rules? Why do I need a building or an organization? If God is in me, isn’t church wherever I am?” It wasn’t rebellion talking – it was something deeper, more authentic.

The God I’d studied and been taught up to this point suddenly became this intimate presence I could feel. Not some distant deity who needed me to jump through institutional hoops, but something both beyond everything and right here inside me. The transcendent became immanent in a very real sense.

Years later, I discovered there’s actually a theological/philosophical term for this experience of God: panentheism. It’s this idea that God is both within everything and also beyond it. Panentheism says “God is in everything, but also more than everything.” That was what I was experiencing.

This was the beginning of what I now call my “collaboration with God.” Sounds fancy, I know, but it’s really just about recognizing that divine presence isn’t something you have to search for – it’s already there, working with you and through you. The Imago Dei had a whole new meaning.

The dark night isn’t a one and done experience – it recurs from time to time. But now there is this light within the darkness. Not from church programs or theological certainty, but from recognizing God is present in my very being, even when everything feels unclear.

And it’s a journey. The questions don’t disappear – they just evolve. There’s something incredibly freeing about a mystical approach to faith. It honors both tradition and personal experience; it values the inner journey as much as the outward expressions.

One way I think about it is sometimes we have to lose our religion to find our faith. And in that finding, we discover that God and ourselves are participants in something much bigger than we ever imagined.

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Guy Mystic- Episode 2

You know how sometimes you outgrow things? That’s exactly what happened with my childhood faith after high school. It started feeling like this tiny cage, and I just couldn’t stay put anymore. There was this whole world out there waiting to be explored, and something inside me kept whispering that there had to be more to faith than what I’d been taught.

So I jumped ship. Looking back now, it’s almost funny how that “big leap” wasn’t really that dramatic. I didn’t exactly throw away my fundamentalist upbringing – I just traded it in for a slightly different model. The Baptist reformed tradition became my new spiritual exploration. Same language basically, just with a different accent. And they weren’t pacifists.

All the familiar landmarks were still there: heaven as the ultimate destination, the Bible as completely infallible, KJV, and this persistent suspicion of anything outside church walls. But something was stirring inside me. I started getting genuinely curious about spiritual stuff, wanting to dig deeper into scripture and really understand theology beyond just Sunday school answers.

(The leap also introduced me to my amazing partner, more about that in Episode 3.)

I was called to Bible college. First, I did a year at this Bible Institute out of state, and then transferred back to this really conservative college – we’re talking hardcore fundamentalist, the kind of place where they had you sign a statement of faith that left zero wiggle room. They had an answer for everything, taught doctrine like it was mathematical fact, and basically viewed the outside world as this dangerous, contaminated place. Don’t get me started on the dress code.

I see now that this was my transition phase. I was trying to balance my growing intellectual curiosity with the comfort of fundamentalist certainty. I thought I was building a stronger foundation for my faith through all this academic study and theological deep-diving.

College years really are a pressure cooker, aren’t they? I threw myself completely into studying biblical culture, historical contexts, theological systems – the works. I learned exactly how to analyze scripture “correctly” and memorized all the right apologetic arguments like I was preparing for the debate team.

But here’s the thing – the deeper I got into fundamentalist theology, the more this uncomfortable feeling grew. The questions just wouldn’t go away. The real world is messy and complicated, and it refused to fit into these neat little theological boxes. The problem of evil especially – none of the explanations I was given really satisfied me. Rigid doctrines started feeling like clothes that were two sizes too small and it was getting hard to breathe.

That little seed of doubt from my childhood? It was turning into a full-blown tree. I was learning critical thinking skills and how to question assumptions – tools they gave me to challenge “worldly wisdom” – but I couldn’t help turning those same tools on my own faith.

I was supposed to use my critical thinking only on “secular” ideas, never on my own beliefs. But I couldn’t help myself. Without even realizing it, I was setting the stage for the next chapter of my journey – one that would take me far beyond the comfortable boundaries of fundamentalism.

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Guy Mystic- Episode 3

For years, I’ve carried the label “spiritual nomad.” It fits, I suppose. My path hasn’t been a straight line, but more of a winding, often confusing, yet ultimately beautiful exploration. And like any journey, it has a starting point, a place where my spiritual curiosity was first evident. That place was a small, little known Anabaptist sect that came from the Mennonite/Amish tradition.

My childhood was steeped in the rhythm of mostly rural life, the scent of freshly turned earth and the clang of metal from my grandfather’s welding shop. He was a farmer, a man of the land, but also a seeker of sorts. He possessed a hunger for knowledge, a desire to understand his faith. And in our small community, he was a lay minister, and to me, a voice of authority and guidance.

I remember the five-volume set of J. Vernon McGee’s “Thru the Bible” commentary, always within reach of his armchair. McGee’s down-to-earth approach to scripture resonated deeply with my grandfather. He embraced the dispensational view, the intricate tapestry of “end times” and the rapture. His sermons, delivered with a farmer’s directness and wisdom.

Sunday evenings were a ritual, with the extended family gathering at my grandparent’s house for a meal and inevitably became space for theological wrestling.The air would thicken with the buzz of biblical and theological debate. The men would gather around the kitchen table then move to the living room, arguing, discussing, and dissecting their latest musings. My grandfather, the patriarch, would hold court having the final say among the many interpretations.

I, a silent observer, would absorb it all. The cadence of their voices, the passion in their arguments, the weight of their words – I was schooled in layman’s theological discourse. I didn’t understand everything, of course. I was grappling with the complexities of faith and the looming shadow of the “end times” they so fervently discussed.

Looking back, I realize how profoundly those Sunday afternoons shaped me. They were my first seminary, my introduction to the labyrinth of religious and spiritual thought. My spiritual questioning started there, amidst the pages of McGee’s commentary and the passionate debates of my family.

It’s ironic, isn’t it? That a tradition so rooted in tradition, so seemingly fixed in its propositional beliefs, would ignite a lifelong journey of exploration. The rigidity of that childhood faith, the certainty of its pronouncements, would quickly become the catalyst for my wandering. I needed to see beyond the boundaries, to question the unquestionable.

That small sect, with its simple faith and its fervent beliefs, was my cradle, my starting point. It was a place of both comfort and constraint, a place that both nurtured and challenged my spirit. And though I have wandered far from its path, it echoes as strongly within me as my DNA, forever intertwined with the story of my nomadic soul.

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Within every individual lies a source of untapped potential, waiting to be discovered and harnessed. This potential extends far beyond the boundaries of our everyday experiences, encompassing aspects of our consciousness, creativity, and spiritual essence.

Often hidden beneath the layers of routine and conditioning, the inner mystic holds the keys to unlocking our deepest aspirations, innate talents, and profound insights. It’s a reservoir of energy that calls us to explore the uncharted territories of our soul, pushing the boundaries of what we believe is possible. By connecting with our inner mystic, we set forth on a transformative path of self-discovery and growth.

This will likely lead to an identity shift.

This process involves letting go of doubt and societal constructs, allowing our inner essence to radiate and bring forth our gifts and potentials. It’s not always easy to see these or identity them. Many time we’ve suppressed this light for so long, it’s hard to see it…to hear it…to experience it.

As we engage with our inner mystic, we come to realize that our personal growth is intertwined with our ability to tap into this source, catalyzing a journey of empowerment, connection, and alignment with our deepest identity.