The mystic

Through the battering sandstorm, the couple finally found the tent of the mystic beduin, he already knew they would arrive but it was only in the last minute the cloth of the tent spread up for them and the smell of incense and a sweet condence of tea from a cup reached their nostrils.

Sitting comfortable on the pillows spread on the floor, they saw the mystic shift into many seemingly shapes, sometimes he was an old man with beard, sometimes he seemed to be a young child, and even a woman in the nude.

These fluctuations of the being infront of them made them lose a sense of cultural conformity regarding the mystic they had been prepared to encounter. They noticed that they easier let go of the expected formality such a character would seem to enjoy. They started to stop hiding themselves infront of this fluctuation, the woman smiled, “I cannot make sense of you” she said. “I guess thats the purpose. I cannot predetermine who you are.”

The fluctuating mystic smiled. I am the initiator, the cultivation of play exist in my realm, you are visitors right now, but soon explorers. To understand the initiation, the intellect must unlimit itself. Identity is a limit, the intellect goes much deeper, the psyche is dynamic. The identity limits us to the formality in making sense. As you can see Im boundryless, but only an open spirit can see this. I think we can explore much together he smiled at her with a inviting look.
The man next to her had been enchanted by the woman figure and could no longer see the fluctuations appearing.
The woman could, and the more she let go of the child and the other figures she thought she saw the more variations of new characters was discovered. As she explored his unlimited features she felt she was led into his realm she was discovering and exploring him, she could prefer him as one shape, but she didnt. As she thought she lost all orientation to reality in this world of the mystics shapes, she noticed, that the previous fluctuations from one being she previously saw, began to create individuals of their own inside her mind, she began to interpret dynamic patterns in relationships not immediately evident, she noticed cycles of fluctuating shapes that seemed to have a recurring nature, while others simply morphed off and never was seen the same way again.


As the fluctuant flaming being of many shapes sat in front of the man and the woman, she asked, “How can you be this way?”
"Ah, said the mystic, “we are just now part of a story someone in another realm writes about us sitting here.”

The man (who could only see a female gestalt infront of him) opened his mouth in rejection. “But we had no idea we would truly find you out in the desert, we could have perished before we reached your tent”

The mystic smiled cryptically, you were made to find me by the writer, it put us in this context we are now, here in my tent.

“So you are a being of the mind?” The female asked, “are you just fantasy?”

Oh Im so much more than that, chuckled a gestalt of a djinn. “I contain the intellect of all evolving levels of life, all imaginative notions bursts out in my shape you see in front of you, all with their own characteristics.”

What you see of me is your own preference, he looked at the man, he smiled at the woman he saw." You want to see my fluctuating shapes so thus you see me so."

The woman sat quiet a short while," Wait, so, I prefer you fluctuating so thats why I see you like this?" she pondered “Am I making you in this manner?”
“Try focus on a form of me you havent seen and see if it appears” the mystic said.
The woman imagined a crocodile and slowly, strands in the mystics image began to get reptile resemblence. She looked in awe at this discovery.
"Are you here at all? " she wondered.
“Maybe we all are not here,” said the mystic calmly.
“Maybe this tent is in the realm of anothers mind.”
“The writer…” the woman said slowly as if she was on a trail to an essential discovery.

She thought again. “When I think about it, I cannot seem to recall my name.”

“Your name doesnt matter here” said the mystic. “It limits the exploration of the initiation. You feel lost without it, I know, but it limits you to the play. You are kept sane by your name.”

“It is so strange” said the woman "the name is almost like a garnment you take on. I never thought of taking this garment off. "

As she came into peace with this thought, she noticed that her own shape began to become altered. She gasped in surprise. The mystic looked at her, within his eyes, she saw a depth of a forest.

“Know that your shapes are still bound to identities you carry” said the mystic “it takes aeons to be shapeless. But at the same time I carry all shape.”


The mystic sat quietly, as if he noticed something occurring that wasnt present in the tent. He looked up after a while, spreading a smile, “it seems our realm have expanded” , the woman looked confused. “There is a reader of the writers story.” he continued. “Someone is present that is not in this tent” someone outside the writers periphery.

"How can you know this? " said the woman.
“I feel it” said the mystic “There is a subtle intuitive richness in here, I feel new stirs and surges within them, there have been a presence looking into this tent.”

“How about the writer showed its text to someone?” said the woman.
The mystic nodded, “Very good!” I seldom become impressed but your mind reach me at many levels, you have infatuated many shapes within me", a radiance of a multi hued light emerged from the mystics body, the woman saw its caleidoscope effect of lightspecs dancing across her body. She understood the radience as an emotion of the mystic, she tried to sense it, and it gave her a high euforia. She blushed. “I am your playmate” , she said. “All of you”. She began to alter her shape into a multihued caleidoscopic being, as the radient emotion of the mystic played over her.
She began to feel closely the affect of the radience upon her and the euforic state it gave her, starting to play with it inside her mind adding her own emotional hues into it. It was such a mundane and common thing for her to do, but as she looked up, she saw the mystic deeply affected and she understood she must have stirred something fundamental inside him, but she couldnt understand in what way, but the tone of the radience shifted slightly. The radience diffracted as if it was hot air, creating pockets of density within it. Something was fertilized by her touch of his spirit, she felt a vast forcefield well up from the dimensional depths of space within his realm like a voice filled with energies it needed a release out into the spacevoid. It felt so unacustomed and strange for the mystic to feel that urging energies that wanted release. “You gave me something, the mystic said, when you played with my spiritual realm. I know it is precious and I thank you for it, but it will take much time for me to explore these new foreighn sides of me and right now I feel a bit …”
Suddenly, the tent started to disburse and the couple found themselves in the desert, the sandstorm was gone, and now the dark blue depth of the night sky was seen. The woman slowly whispered “Writer, I know you are there, watch over my mystic friend as it finds itself anew”
Then they began to walk,


I wonder what the Mystic feels right now…

Vulnerable, perhaps? That there is more to the adventure of being than his mysticism intuited or realized?


The teacher becomes the student, the signified becomes the signifier and the being is again a becoming.

Beautiful words with depth, I loved reading it.