“. . . with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.”

                                        —  William Wordsworth, “Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey” 

My guess is that most people who practice shamanism or mysticism would have no objection to my adding another line to this stanza of Wordsworth’s poem: “And they see into us.” The Andeans tell us that everything is a “being,” so if we see into the life of all the things of this world, they see into us as well. In the Andean mystical tradition, this reciprocity is called ayni.

Ayni is neither transactional nor casual. It is about seeing into the heart of another being, whether that is a human being, tree, or mountain. We see through our mystical vision and connect through our feelings—in the Andean way through munay, or conscious caring or even love. Wordsworth description of an “eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy” is a beautiful rendering of the energetics of ayni. He speaks of a perceptual connection that is conscious, humble, respectful, and curious.

Continuing with my blog posts about mystical abilities both within and outside of the Andean cosmosvision, developing this quality of perception into the “life of things” is of paramount importance. A core goal of many types of mystical practices is to develop a perception that can look into the life of things, achieving a direct, unmediated connection to the physical and non-physical reality of this world. This kind of awareness, this contact, is a verifiable reality for mystical practitioners. But is truly unmediated awareness possible?

I believe it is, but only rarely. For most of us, most of the time, the answer is no. This is the great paradox of mystical perception: Our “seeing into the life of things” is, overwhelmingly, an act of seeing ourselves reflected in the things we observe. Our human brain is hard-wired with a perceptual habit to anthropomorphize—to project human abilities, behaviors, emotions, and qualities onto non-human beings. For many scientists, especially evolutionary biologists, we are structurally incapable of doing otherwise. As Reza Aslan writes in God: A Human History: “We are . . . evolutionarily adapted to implant our own beliefs and desires, our own mental and psychological states, our own souls, in other beings, whether they are human or not.” (Italics in original.) We are the ultimate mediator. Our personal experience is the lens through which we apply meaning to the entire universe, blurring the line between pure observation and self-projection.

Let us drill down into a few of the profound implications of anthropomorphization: of projecting human traits onto spirit and nature beings. The core philosophical challenge is the limits of knowledge. We must confront the fact that we can only ever know our perception of the world, not the world itself. While mysticism suggests that everything is connected—for example, that knowing a tree is a deep-down way of knowing ourselves—moments of such “at-one-ment” are exceptional. More commonly, our connections with non-human beings are exchanges that reveal more about ourselves than them. Despite how mystical training can increase our capacity to sense and apprehend non-human beings, I am suggesting that most of the time we cannot know their true nature beyond the lens of our own projection.

As meaning-making creatures, our human perspective is the absolute starting and ending point of all sense-making. Even in moments of perceived reciprocity with a spirit or nature being—when we hear them speak or feel a shared emotional connection—it is impossible to know if the dialogue or feeling originates from the non-human entity or if it is mostly or entirely self-constructed. The mere act of hearing a tree “talk” is, by definition, an anthropomorphism.

Given this limitation, perhaps the term that best defines mysticism is “preternatural.” In its more theological and philosophical definitions, it refers to our apprehension of spirit or nature beings as unexplainable and unverifiable independent of our own minds. That said, mystical experiences are not intellectual; they are phenomenological. Their reality is undeniable to the experiencer, but their meaning and value are inherently personal, determined by our own state of consciousness, feelings, and beliefs.

This dependence on the self does not diminish the worth of mystical encounters, but it requires that we approach them with qaway. This Andean mystical capacity helps us see reality as it “really” is, forcing us to acknowledge the predominant energy dynamic: the inherent tendency to overlay our humanness onto everything. Poetry best captures the essence of this point. Wallace Stevens’s “Tea at the Palace of Hoon” explores the fluid boundary between the inner and the outer, showing how self-realization stems from our own conscious, creative power to shape ourselves through shaping the world: “I was the world in which I walked, and what I saw / Or heard or felt came not but from myself; / And there I found myself more truly and more strange.”

Given the inherent limitations of the human perspective, how can we approach mystical communion with spirit and nature beings with less self-projection? How might we achieve greater comfort with the fact that although these entities may possess some measure of consciousness, they may or may not be aware of or even much interested in human beings? While mysticism holds that we and they are expressions of a larger, interconnected web of being, or likely of an uncharacterizable One Consciousness, the question remains: How do we respect that their conscious existence might be profoundly different from our own? Here are three suggestions for easing ourselves into this frame of reference.

Release Agendas

Observe, connect, and be in union with non-human beings free from the expectation that they can, will, or want to act on our behalf. When we seek out connection mostly to have personal needs or wants met (e.g., insight, problem-solving, learning)—or even when we approach making a connection so we can have an “experience”—we are centering the interaction around ourselves. We are being more transactional than we are genuinely reciprocal. We are in danger of making ourselves dominant and even superior to the nature or spirit being. We don’t know the Mind of God, but it is likely that nature and other kinds of spirits do not exist to bring us pleasure or to serve our needs. We are certainly free to ask for counsel or guidance, and our experience tells us that they do assist us. But we must remain aware that the tree, mountain, or other non-human entity is under no obligation to assist, may not be able to assist, and even may be entirely indifferent to us. It is far more likely that what we “receive” from our connection to a spirit or nature being is an opportunity to listen to the voice of our own unconscious—to our own inner knowing, and even inner wisdom. At the very least, we must remain aware that the nature or spirit being may be functioning more as a mirror than as a human-like problem solver or teacher.

Allow Nature to Reveal Itself

Mystically, everything is a being and possesses some measure of consciousness, although not necessarily one resembling human consciousness. Nature may be a teacher (a metaphor), and if we approach a plant, for example, with an openness to receiving its true nature, sometimes information may be exchanged in ways that are currently unknowable. We might receive the inspiration that this plant, when prepared as a tea, aids human digestion or relieves pain. The key is the shift in approach: We do not approach it with an expectation that it will reveal its “secrets.” Instead, we approach it with respect and humility, simply seeking to know it as itself. Sometimes, from that pure knowing, insights into how the plant can serve our needs will spontaneously arise. The crucial attitudinal difference is that this is not an “ask,” but a reverent connection from which a “receiving” may sometimes emerge.

Honor Selflessly

It is a common spiritual or sacred practice to make offerings—such a sage or tobacco, or in the Andean tradition a despacho—to Nature or specific nature or spirit beings. Usually, we do that as an act of ayni (reciprocity): an offering precedes a request or is an expression of gratitude for the fulfillment of a request. While the act of making an offering embodies our respect, we must guard again allowing a genuine feeling to become merely performative. Too often, a ritual becomes centered on the one saying “Thank You” rather than on the one who is due the thanks. The energy dynamic of projection is subtle: In the act of honoring, we can easily connect more with ourselves than with the being. I am making this offering. I am giving thanks. Genuine honoring is a selfless form of connection; it is a way of connecting that moves us beyond the ego.

Trees, mountains, rivers—they existed for millions of years before human beings did. Even if mystically we acknowledge that they have their own kind of consciousness and intelligence, their form of “beingness” is fundamentally unknowable to us. As ancient entities, their lifespans extend across time scales we cannot possibly imagine. Their form of consciousness may have evolved in radically different ways than ours and may take forms bizarrely distinct from human thought. Very simply, they are highly unlikely to be humanlike.

Perhaps a river’s reason for being is simply to flow. A star’s is to shine. A mountain’s is to rise. That is enough; they do not require any more purpose.

They know their own true nature. If we desire genuine mystical connection, these admissions are necessary. Releasing our human projections frees us to be our authentic selves, and allows them to be authentically theirs. This respect for their profound autonomy is the minimal starting point for establishing an ayni connection with spirit and nature beings.