Another argument for the ordinary

Once, recently, I tried to explain Domestic Mysticism to a glass artist. The whole articulation made me wonder, again, about the nature of the idea in particular, and also about the nature of ideas in general. How much fluidity can an idea bear to run with? An idea is not a vessel for something real and contained/containable, but it is a vessel in that it is a thing made (and which can be, in the words of Merleau-Ponty, unmade.) The glass artist said, I too make vessels. We are in a world of vessels, I said.

And then what I said was this, or something like it: Mysticism in traditional terms privileges, and tries to open the individual up through specific ritual practices to, the experience of the divine. To experience the divine, in these terms, is set apart from ordinary experience–so, one must practice asceticism, take hallucinogens, chant, spin, sit for hours, and then, and thus, enter an abnormal state: ecstasy, realization, transcendence, purification.

But these states, exoticised and idealized, presume that ordinary experience is static, not real, and impure in some way. The mystic feels an intense need to transcend the world, the ordinary, the domestic, the mundane, the self. The mystic feels an intense separation from the divine, and a need to dissolve the boundary between self and the source of light and otherness. This longing is emblematic of the escapist tendency in humans which, at its most interesting, causes mysticism and art, and at its most dogmatic and vile, causes orthodoxy and fundamentalism. I do not intend, as a domestic mystic, to rail against mystic tendencies, certainly not against all art; even religion has its place sociologically.


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