MYSTICISM
— 588—
from Freud’s dislike for “dark” phenomena such as
mysticism and Yoga, to Jung’s archetypal meta-
physics according to which a variety of mystical
phenomena may be classified. Nevertheless, Staal
himself claimed that he “would not be surprised if
the study of mysticism would one day be regarded
as a branch of psychology,” by which he meant
“that psychology would be deepened and widened
so as to be in a position to take account of these
particular aspects of the mind” (p. 116).
Psychology and cognitive science. Approach-
ing mysticism from the interpretive lens of cogni-
tive science, visions and locutions offer themselves
as interesting candidates for investigation. Neurolo-
gist and author Oliver Sacks, for example, frames
Hildegard of Bingen in terms of medical literature
on migraine. He writes, “The religious literature of
all ages is replete with descriptions of ‘visions,’ in
which sublime and ineffable feelings have been ac-
companied by the experience of radiant luminos-
ity.” He continues, “It is impossible to ascertain, in
the vast majority of cases, whether the experience
represents a hysterical or psychotic ecstasy, the ef-
fects of intoxication, or an epileptic or migrainous
manifestation” (p. 112). Somewhat similarly, mental
health professionals also have investigated patterns
of commonality between the reported mystical ex-
periences of religious practitioners and psychotic
inpatients, concluding, “Contemplatives and psy-
chotics taken together could be separated from
Normals, but not from each other, with the Hood
Mysticism Scale. The Normals and Contemplatives
taken together could be separated from the
Pyschotics, but not from each other, with the EGO
Scale (Knoblauch’s Ego Grasping Orientation In-
ventory) and the NPI (Raskin and Hall’s Narcissistic
Personality Inventory)” (Stifler, p. 366).
Hindu and particularly Buddhist mysticism as-
sumes “the perfectibility of man,” as Herbert Guen-
ther puts it (p. 42). This fact opens the way for
some incredible claims concerning human capaci-
ties, such as the claims that enlightened humans
may attain ja ilus, or “rainbow body,” at the time of
death, such that their bodies dissolve into rainbow
light and all manner of spectacular visions appear
to the disciples left behind (Lhalungpa, pp. 82–97).
Obviously, traditions postulating no ceiling on
human accomplishments open the way for psy-
chological grandiosity to manifest in the character
structures of certain practitioners. Invoking a con-
temporary, psychiatric frame of interpretation, one
can recognize a pathological “mechanism of de-
fense” in the “primitive fantasy” of omnipotence
(Kernberg, pp. 2–21) and the signs of “narcissistic
personality disorder” in fantasies of unlimited suc-
cess (Beck, p. 234). Along somewhat similar lines,
Schumaker argues that we should “understand re-
ligion and psychopathology (and, indirectly, hyp-
nosis) as systems of artificial order that are de-
pendent upon an active dissociation process” (p.
34). The fine line between insightful interpretation
of one system of thought and practice in terms of
the reality framework of another, and critical, al-
most condescending judgment, on the other hand,
however, highlights the difficulties one encounters
when employing one specific cultural lens to in-
terpret behaviors arising in different segments of
the same culture, or in different cultures altogether.
The status, experience, and understanding of
consciousness, awareness, the mind, and the self,
occupy tomes of mystical rumination. Indian philo-
sophical systems of thought, and later Tibetan
Buddhist writers, excel in this arena. For example,
Prabhakara Mimamsaka philosophers occupy them-
selves with the question of whether or not the self
is “self-luminous,” concluding, “the self is not con-
sciousness, and while consciousness (samvit) is
self-luminous, the self is not” (Mahadevan, p. 11).
Interestingly, this emphasis on consciousness and
awareness makes mysticism a possible ally to con-
temporary brain science in the West. Mystical ac-
counts from all of the world’s major religious tradi-
tions, such as the rnam thar (“sacred biography”)
genre expressive of Tibetan Buddhist mysticism,
frequently rely upon autobiography and sacred bi-
ography (hagiography) as narrative forms, further
pointing to the centrality of the “self” and its trans-
formations in the mystical journey. To oversimplify
the situation, regular and frequently dramatic per-
sonal transformations wrought by the mystical path
threaten to destabilize the self, a potentially dan-
gerous, psychological situation mitigated by the
creation of a “narrated self” (Wortham, p. 140),
which can function as the hero or heroine in tales
of miraculous accomplishment, thereby compen-
sating for possible psychological fragmentation by
means of a chronological narrative unfolding in
which the mystic’s own identity remains constant
over the course of his or her lifespan.
The role of the body in providing a support for
mystical experience constitutes another area in
which mysticism and modern science, in this case,