A is not a person who levitates or lives in a cave. It is not a label reserved for saints, gurus, or the exceptionally holy. In fact, the more I sit with this word, the more I realize:
The difference is not in what we do, but in what we notice . A Mysticbeing hasn’t left the world. She has finally, fully, entered it.
And in that trying, remember who you’ve always been. Mysticbeing
5 minutes There is a word we don’t use enough anymore: being .
If you call yourself a Mysticbeing as an identity to feel superior, you have missed the point entirely. The true Mysticbeing has no need for the title. The title is just a signpost pointing back to the simple, impossible truth: A is not a person who levitates or lives in a cave
Have you ever stood somewhere—a forest at dawn, a concert where the music seemed to breathe, a moment of such unexpected kindness that your throat tightened—and felt the boundaries of your skin dissolve? That is the other door. Beauty that breaks you open is just as initiatory as grief.
In my experience, there are two wounds that crack the human heart open enough for this kind of knowing to enter: A Mysticbeing hasn’t left the world
The word “mystic” has been co-opted by the ego. We see Instagram posts with crystals and ethereal music and think, I want that aesthetic . But real mysticism is not aesthetic. It is gritty. It is waking up at 3 AM with existential dread and still whispering thank you . It is washing a sink full of dishes and feeling the universe wash itself through your hands.