How to Dismantle a Spiritual Epiphany

I've got shelves full of books. I've always been a seeker. Looking for answers. And really the questions seem to just continue to pile up.

How to Dismantle a Spiritual Epiphany?

My previous post mentioned one such episode. And after I read what I wrote it seemed so paltry, so cliche, so trite. I certainly didn't do it justice.

How to Dismantle a Spiritual Epiphany?

I don't know, it's kind of like dissecting a cat, right? I mean, what you love about your cat, the meaning of your cat, the importance of your cat cannot be found in analyzing the parts. By looking inside, you might understand some of the plumbing, but that understanding does not add up to what you love about the cat.

And by dissecting, you kill it. You end up with a dead cat. Not the same thing at all.

How to Dismantle a Spiritual Epiphany?

So I think the answer is you can't. You can have one, experience one, but can't really explain it. That's one thing I've learned after all these years of seeking - reading all those books.

And it's the same with other things too.

I can take U2's music apart (for instance). And tell you that Edge is a great, inventive guitar player, that Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen are an exquisitely good rhythm section, that Bono has an evocative voice and that his song lyrics speak on a transcendent plane, but that doesn't really add up to what U2's music means to me.

It might explain why I think they're a good band, but it doesn't really tell you why they are important to me. Why they speak to me on a deeper level, why their music seems wise and holy in some weird pop cultural way.

And what of that feeling of oneness, of everything is perfect, that flooded my consciousness, my being? I can't dismantle that. I can't explain it. There was the water, the sky, the beach, the dog, the music, and me. And it was all so much more than that.

How to Dismantle a Spiritual Epiphany?

Yes, exactly!