At the beginning of the twentieth century Lévy Bruhl, the French anthropologist, called it “participation mystique”. More recently Morris Berman refers to roughly the same concept as “participating consciousness” (The Reenchantment of the World), a way of being and knowing that doesn’t radically objectify things so that we can destroy them and lose a sense of belonging to a universal soul; that sense of unity with everything that we are all born with as magical children.
Creative, sensitive people never have participation mystique completely stolen from them. There are always those times when, lost in the creative process, we have the distinct sense afterwards of having been “lost” in the activity, of having become one with the process. Conventional time dissolves and unity prevails. The Chinese call it ch’i (life force or energy flow). Ch’i literally translates as “air or breath”. Perhaps not so coincidentally “soul” was referred to as pneuma in Greek philosophy—meaning, literally, wind or breath. We can understand the profound depth of these associations when we speak of being inspired—literally “breathed into”.
Being mystically “breathed into”, then, takes us into a state of inspiration in which we can become lost to creativity and unity with what is at hand and the universe as a whole—a state that counters the wanton destruction that continues around us. When I get lost this way in writing, I call it “writing underwater”—a sense of breathing and being one with something deep and flowing.
This is a long preamble to what I really want to talk about.
Many of you will know Alice Walker as the author of “The Colour Purple”; but she is also a short story author, poet and political activist who was very prominent in the black feminist movement of the ‘80s and ‘90s. She remains extremely outspoken on issues of social and environmental justice.
I love her work, but one of her most stunning publications is a simple book for magical children—young and old—who can still grasp and hold onto the edges of another reality that may yet participate in saving the earth and ensuring that the magic remains in the souls of our magical children. I transcribe the short story, There Is a Flower ath the Tip of My Nose Smelling Me, and its beautiful postscript; but please buy the book for children and adults you love. With Stefano Vitale’s illustrations, this will remain a bedside treasure of mystical participation for generations:
There Is a Flower at the Tip of My Nose Smelling Me
By
Alice Walker
There is a flower
At the tip
Of my nose
Smelling
Me.
There is a sky
At the end
Of my
Eye
Seeing
Me.
There is a road
At the bottom
Of my
Foot
Walking me.
There is a dog
At the end
Of my leash
Holding
Me.
There is an ocean
At the top
Of my
Head
Swimming me.
There is a sunrise
At the edge
Of
My skin
Praising
Me.
There is water
At the tip
Of my tongue
Tasting me.
There is a song
Deep in
My body
Singing
Me.
There is a dance
That lives
In my bones
Dancing
Me.
There is a poem
In the cradle
Of my Soul
Rocking me.
There is a pen
Nestled
In my hand
Writing
Me.
There is a story
At the end
Of my arms
Telling
Me.
A Note from the Author
One day I went walking in the forest near my house with my dog, along an old logging trail. Redwoods rose to left and right, the sky was a brilliant blue with a few threads of clouds, the earth was scented with spring. As I walked, the wonder of myself as part of all this overcame me. I began to sing: “I come out of You, my love. I come out of You!” Over and over, with the greatest gratitude and joy. As soon as I got home, my big black lab trotting just as happily beside me, I wrote this book, which was not a book then, but a thank you note.
**************
If you are moved by this story, then an intuitive understanding and longing are probably a part of that moving energy. Finding mystical participation is something we can all journey toward together.
"A new world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day I can hear her breathing"
--Arundhati Roy
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