Joseph Tawadros, an Egyptian-Australian musician, recently performed a record-breaking 25-hour long concert to benefit the people of Gaza.
On a particularly murky night in late December, I found myself driving across town in what felt like the darkest storm of the year. A tar-like shroud blocked out the stars as torrents of rain raged against my windshield. The headlights of passing cars seemed like solitary angler fish, alien lifeforms of the deepest sea.
I turned on Portland’s community radio and suddenly found my ears awash in provocative tones that pierced me like a golden arrow. The distinct, gut-taught tones emerged out of what sounded like the throat of some beautiful grassland mammal – a gazelle or impala – if only it could cry out like a bird. Listening to the beak-sharp plucks and tendonish bends, I knew I could only be listening to a Middle-Eastern oud.
I let the solitary, grief-hewn tones steep into my bones. Wave upon wave of emotion pummeled my body as I contemplated the unspeakable reality that continues to unfold in Gaza as I write this, after more than three months of unceasing bloodshed. The pleading, devastatingly simple notes of the oud became a poem, wrapped around a prayer, planted into a field of incalculable loss.
The sound was horrifying and holy. Heartbreakingly beautiful. And for the first time since October 7th, I was finally able to feel something around the war in Gaza and Israel that felt like a genuine human reaction.
And then I found myself deep in contemplation. Tawadros played his instrument for 25 hours straight. Without a doubt during his vigil, Tawadros must have sunk into a reverie, an ecstatic trance, some altered state of consciousness. And I don’t suspect it was all rainbows and unicorns either. I imagined the brutal cocktail of sleep deprivation, physical fatigue, hunger, thirst, metal exhaustion, and creative burnout that Tawadros faced, wondering if it was going to destroy him.
On his Instagram, Tawadros shares:
“I wanted to share this particular moment roughly 10 hours into the concert. I was struggling a little bit with mental fatigue and knew I still had quite a few hours ahead of me. At that moment I reminded myself of what the intention behind the concert was, and that I just have to push through. My mind was taken to a video I’d seen online of a sweet innocent girl crying, frantically looking for her sister at a hospital, saying that her sister is all that she has left, after most of her family had been killed. I kept on repeating to myself ‘this is for her, come on Joe, you can do it’, and how the money we raise could help children like her. At that point the lullaby ‘twinkle, twinkle, little star’ found its way onto my fingerboard. I wanted to give her a moment of peace, a moment of comfort, a moment of childhood. Then so many feelings followed, like how children can’t just be children in a war zone. Innocence, playfulness, simplicity, happiness, either taken away or juxtaposed with the fear of bombing, death, aloneness, injury and chaos. So in that moment of improvisation, that’s what you will hear. Innocence within chaos, within bombs, within destruction…I intentionally do not play the last note of the lullaby, the lack of resolution symbolising the uncertainty and anxiety…”
I wondered: can ecstasy be a political act? What role, if any, do altered states of mind and body play when we are sitting with collective atrocities that are impossible for one person to change alone?
The word ecstasy can be defined as “an overwhelming feeling of great happiness or joyful excitement,” or “an emotional or religious frenzy or trance-like state, originally one involving an experience of mystic self-transcendence.”
Its deepest root traces to the Latin ecstasis, which literally means “to stand outside one’s self.”
By bringing consciousness outside of one’s self, ecstasy widens our perspective. It is, by definition, inherently mystical and transcendent. Trance, and other altered states of consciousness that can result from a variety of practices like meditation, dance, extreme physical exertion, fasting, and through consuming mind-altering plants and drugs, are the vehicles through which ecstasy is accessed.
According to the Panke-Richards Mystical Experience Questionnaire, used throughout contemporary psychedelic research, mystical experiences can often be qualified by a “feeling of unity, sacredness, ineffability, peace and joy, as well as a sense of transcending time and space and an intuitive belief that the experience is a source of objective truth about reality” (Maclean KA, Leoutsakos JM, Johnson MW, Griffiths RR., 2012).
Emerging psychedelic research is also demonstrating that the more immersed we are in these profoundly ineffable states, the more likely we are to change (Garcia-Romeu, A., Griffiths, R., Johnson, M., 2015). Taken together, we can see that mystical, ecstatic experiences are not simply self-indulgent “trips,” hallucinations, or a means of escapism (though they can surely become that without integration and community).
Rather, they present us with a powerful opportunity to change our viewpoints, modify our behaviors and choices, and transform. Unless I’m missing something, these are also the primary goals of activism.
I’ll be honest: I’ve soured on that word, as of late. These days, activism is often used to justify smashing the windows of small businesses, destroying public spaces, and disrespecting great works of art. Having witnessed the fallout of this style of “activism” throughout my hometown of Portland, I can’t seem to find its merits. I’ve heard all the arguments why these violent strategies are used. I just don’t agree. It’s not my style, anyway. In the long run, I truly believe they do more harm than good.
True activism, according to the work of Andrew Harvey, has a spiritual dimension that appears to be painfully lacking in what currently qualifies as such. For many who identify as activists today, their cause will only benefit from a strong dose of the mystical.
Especially for movements which seem stuck in making significant headway or inspiring meaningful change, perhaps spirituality is the essential ingredient that is missing.
Ecstasy and activism is neither a modern, new age invention or a privileged luxury. In fact, the use of trance as a means of political action has deep roots in many Indigenous cultures. The great West African teacher, Malidoma Somé, said, “Visible wrongs have their roots in the world of the spirit” (1993, p. 43). For animistic peoples, turning to the spirit world for guidance was a valid and sophisticated way of seeking inspiration and direction in the face of real struggle.
In North America, the Ghost Dance was one such example. This visionary, political, revivalist movement amongst Native peoples swept across the plains in the late 19th century. It prophesied the downfall of the white man and promised the return of the buffalo and the dead ancestors of many dwindling tribes. This simple dance truly threatened the encroaching grip of American governmental control and their policies of forced relocation to reservations. The US government was so terrified by this movement that it dispatched its cavalry to quell its spread amongst the Lakota, which finally culminated in the massacre we now call Wounded Knee.
In fact, we could say that colonial powers have always been frightened of Indigenous ecstatic practices, what Mircea Eliade called “archaic techniques of ecstasy.” The power of the Sundance, the guidance received in a sweat lodge ceremony, the blessing bestowed by a sacred pipe, all posed serious threats to the American government and their genocidal agenda. It is any wonder that Native religious practices were only fully legalized in 1978?
In the Zimbabwean war of independence, guerilla fighters would consult Shona spirit mediums, bedecked in white and black tunics or animal skins, seeking guidance from the ancestor spirits that possessed their bodies. Zimbabwean music, which is profoundly linked with their traditional African religion, was banned by the colonial Rhodesian government precisely because it called the ancestor spirits during all night ceremonies called a bira.
Eventually, a sly new musical concoction was born called Chimurenga music, which encoded Shona melodies and ancient sayings into what appeared to be “pop music,” which the government thought to be innocuous. Boy, were they wrong.
Having witnessed several bira ceremonies firsthand, believe me when I say, they are no joke.
Even today, in white, middle America, evangelical Christian congregations pray for the political candidate of their choice in massive churches bedecked with PA systems and LED display screens.
Take any religious tradition, any spiritual movement, and it becomes abundantly clear that ecstasy does indeed have a place in political action. If that is the case, then why do so many political and activist movements today seem to lack any semblance of a spiritual compass?
Political movements need a balance of catharsis–protest, action, and fierce resistance–and ecstasis–vision, power, and grounded spirituality. Today, we lean heavily on catharsis. We all need to get something out of our systems, and for good reason. It is no mystery to me why most protests these days result in smashed windows: people are angry. Catharsis, which means to purge, is the natural response to a society that doesn't know how to listen.
And yet… Our culture is sorely lacking in ecstasy at present, which makes affecting lasting change far more difficult. Perhaps most importantly, most successful activist movements could have arguably failed without a spiritually-motivated leader. Vision must play a central theme in our social movements once again if they are to succeed.
Martin Luther King Jr’s “dream” is one such vision, as is Gandhi’s devotion to non-violence. Tawadros’ oud vigil is another.
None of this is new information. These are old, worn out ideas, and it’s getting late. But that night, in the depths of winter, echoing across the Atlantic ocean, across an entire continent, filtered through airwaves and electrical systems and speakers, into my ears, brain, and finally heart, the simple strumming of one man’s vision was enough to devastate me, and open my heart.
And whether we call it a masterpiece, a protest, a spell, or a prayer, it doesn't matter. The point is that it worked.
References:
Garcia-Romeu, A., Griffiths, R., Johnson, M. (2015). Psilocybin-occasioned mystical experiences in the treatment of tobacco addiction. Current Drug Abuse Reviews, 7(3): 157-164.
Harvey, A. (2009). The hope: A guide to sacred activism. Carlsbad, CA: Hay House.
Maclean KA, Leoutsakos JM, Johnson MW, Griffiths RR. Factor Analysis of the Mystical Experience Questionnaire: A Study of Experiences Occasioned by the Hallucinogen Psilocybin. J Sci Study Relig. (2012). Dec;51(4):721-737.
Somé, M. P. (1993). Ritual: Power, healing and community. Portland, OR: Swan/Raven & Company.
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Powerful. There are still those who believe... “We live in a kind of dark age, craftily lit with synthetic light, so that no one can tell how dark it has really gotten. But our exiled spirits can tell. Deep in our bones resides an ancient singing couple who just won't give up making their beautiful, wild noise. The world won't end if we can find them.” -Martin Prechtel
Great stuff again, Simon. Emotional intensity, artistic expression, ritual and devotion.