When healing looks mystical in a dysregulated culture

Mysticism is often misunderstood. In its classical sense, mysticism refers to union: union with God, with the Absolute, with ultimate reality. It points to a direct experience of connection that transcends ordinary perception and conceptual thought. Across spiritual traditions, this union is not described as fantasy or imagination, but as a state in which separation softens and truth becomes immediately known.

The word itself carries another important meaning. Derived from the Greek mystikos, mysticism originally referred to what is hidden or secret. It suggests that it is unavailable to those who had not yet undergone the inner transformation required to have union with God.

In a culture shaped by chronic stress, unresolved trauma, and survival-based functioning, this distinction matters. When the nervous system is constantly oriented toward protection, union is difficult to access. Disconnection becomes familiar. We disconnect from ourselves, others, and from the larger reality we might call God, the universe, or consciousness itself. In this context, experiences of clarity, guidance, or deep inner knowing are often labeled mystical simply because they fall outside what most people regularly experience.

But what if these experiences are not extraordinary expressions of spirituality, but natural consequences of healing?

Over time, I have witnessed moments where healing does not arrive through understanding, but through release. The body seems to take the lead, while the mind briefly steps aside. It is as if something long held under pressure, contained for the sake of survival, finally finds a way to discharge. Much like a vessel that has been steadily building heat, the system reaches a point where release is not dramatic, but necessary. When it happens, there is a sense that something unfinished has finally completed itself. The shaking, the settling, the sudden quiet are not signs of chaos, but of regulation returning. The body does what it has always known how to do once it is safe enough to do it.

As healing unfolds, the noise that once dominated our inner world begins to quiet. The Self, always present, becomes more accessible, less obscured by fear, urgency, or self-protection. With this accessibility comes a renewed capacity for relationship: with the body, with others, and with something larger than the individual self. Union is not created in these moments; it is revealed.

This process is not purely self-directed. While a certain level of attunement is necessary, healing is often initiated or accelerated by forces beyond our conscious choosing. God, the universe, has a way of intervening. It often comes through disruption, discomfort, or circumstances that demand attention. Sometimes what we experience as a crisis is not punishment, but invitation. A narrowing of options. A moment where the familiar ways of coping no longer work. In these moments, we are not abandoned. We are being guided toward choice…to change, to bring healing and greater alignment.

Guidance does not always arrive gently. Sometimes it insists. It may rearrange our lives enough that we can no longer ignore what needs to be addressed. And still, choice remains… We can respond by turning inward, by listening and doing our healing work, or we can resist, double down, and move further away from ourselves. Healing happens not because we control the process, but because we begin to cooperate with the universe. We become in union. 

As this cooperation deepens, its effects ripple outward. Confidence grows and our voice strengthens. We speak our truth without collapsing into fear of rejection. Our hearts open, and love flows more freely. We start giving love to ourselves and others, even when relationships are imperfect or painful. Forgiveness becomes possible, as release from its grip.

From this union, abundance emerges in many forms. There is abundance in emotional availability, in rest, in joy, in a felt sense of meaning. Financial abundance often follows as well. We no longer have to force or chase it. It comes as a reflection of increased trust, clarity, and self-worth. The mind becomes quieter at night. The constant scanning, the racing thoughts, the sense of impending threat begin to subside. A deeper knowing settles in: we are not alone, and life is responsive.

This knowing is built through experience. Over time, repeated encounters with the guidance of the universe teach us that there is an intelligence at work beyond our individual efforts. Our personal consciousness begins to feel less isolated, more connected to a larger field of meaning and relationship. What happens within us no longer feels separate from what happens around us.

And yet, many of our dominant systems fail to acknowledge this dimension of healing. Physical illness is often treated as separate from emotional life. Mental distress is reduced to symptoms or diagnoses. The spiritual dimension is frequently ignored. Without integration, healing remains partial. Symptoms may be managed, but the deeper call for change goes unanswered.

What we often label mystical is not rare or supernatural. It is human in a capacity that is not fully known to many of us. It is what becomes available when healing is allowed to unfold and when we respond to the invitations life places in front of us. In a dysregulated culture, coherence looks extraordinary. But perhaps the truth is simpler and more hopeful: these experiences are not signs of being special. They are signs of being less burdened by unhealed pain.

If true healing is allowed, these moments would not surprise us. They would be expected. And instead of asking why some people seem to hear the voice of the universe, we might begin to ask a more honest question: What has kept so many of us from listening and what might become possible if we finally did?