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*Brian Wilcox. "Hauntingly Beautiful." Flickr.
In the history of religions, we read of a sense of awe in holy places and holy moments. This awe includes a feeling of dread before what has been called holy, or the Holy. This holiness is not moral, though it has taken on that popularized meaning, unfortunately. Rather, the ancient idea of holy is regarding the absolute-otherness of the Totally Other, and, when appearing to be near, strikes a sense of fear in the human person. Such was the power of this Otherness, ancients were respectful, as it could be deadly when approached wrongly or without due respect.
Trepidation is due to the confrontation with that Something so unlike us that the immensity and other-worldliness jolts our sense of embodied being into a temporary, humbling shock. The usual sense of self is temporarily disabled, the arrogant ego brought to its knees, literally or figuratively.
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This dread, however, is accompanied with a sense of wonder, of amazement. Likewise, one may be filled with love for this Other, which may lead to a sense of gratitude or praise. For many, this awful meeting has led to silence. When enraptured in this sense of dreadful wonder, or wondrous dread, one may sense an absence of will to speak or need to speak.
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That this experience of awe is not the experience more in many cultures, we may differ on that being a good change or ill change. Yet, also, possibly in this loss of awe in religious contexts, we may be shifting to meet that need in other ways, healthy and unhealthy.
A life without experiences of awe, even if mild and non-religious, is missing a vital element of being human in a potentially Infinite cosmos. Indeed, we may not all need religion, but we need tastes of Immensity, of Otherness, that humble us into a worshipful, quiet mood, that alerts us to the smallness of our particularity in the universe. We need the Totally Other, however we differently see that, to put us into our place, to humble us before its Presence. This humbling, then, helps position us in the order of the living Cosmos, and in relationship to beings who are, human and otherwise, our kin on this planet.
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The following poem is penned to express awe arising either in religious or other contexts. This poem arose from my present stay in Maine, USA, in which I have often felt a being-overcome with the grandeur around, at times ushering me into silence, at times into tears, at times into quietly expressing prayer of gratitude. The verse was written as postscript to the above photograph taken from the river in front of my cottage.
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Before proceeding, of import is the sense of awe is the same, even if of diverse intensity, in whatever contexts. Strictly speaking, there is no religious awe in contrast to awe that might arise in any number of other venues. Also, awe is not reliant on a person having any faith in a personal deity. One may be struck with awe walking in the wood, another seeing his or her newly born baby, another kneeling in quiet prayer in a church, another meditating in a sangha, ... Also, awe is more a mixture of moods coming together at-once, so one description is not adequate. We can, as I attempt to do below, hint at a sample of this mystifying encounter with Mystery.
hauntingly ~
evoked by the mysterious
intimating primal, tameless stirrings
time like curtain
place like veil
what hidden
concealed?
felt
not known?
unseen
untouched
outside human sphere
ineffable we are
drawn from, drawn to
ineffable
ourselves to ourselves
answer to answer
unknown to unknown
we both want to sense the fear
and feel the fearless risk
we want grounding in the familiar
and escape into the never-before
hauntingly ~
like dark ritual, daring
in deep, shadowed winter wood
rite of subtle beauty, looming amorphous spirits
feelings of being in the presence
of unspeakable
sense of self
tethered on slippery precipice
mind mystified
body loosened from its mooring
even tranquility
so deep, so pervasive, so voiceless
stretched out
like thick canvas
covering river flow
or
moving
like enveloping, eerie quietness,
deepening, alone on cold, mountain path
not seen, everywhere
not bowing to our altars, our shrines
even our ideas of 'right' and 'wrong'
brooding
deep sense of mortality
inarticulate echoes of Eternality
yes
in the haunting
the light of Hope
for
'dark' and 'light'
one entwined Truth
for 'life' and 'death'
one glorious "Yes!"
so, yes
Life can be
hauntingly beautiful
*Brian Wilcox. "Shadows of Light." Flickr.
*(C) Copyright 2019. Brian K. Wilcox. Move cursor over photos for more details.
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